


Battle: Actium

by Ian_Otter



Category: Halo (Video Games) & Related Fandoms
Genre: Battle of Actium, Colonial Milita, Cross-Posted on FanFiction.Net, Human-Covenant War, Original Character(s), Pre-Halo Games, UNSC Air Force, UNSC Armed Forces, UNSC Army, UNSC Marine Corps, UNSC Navy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-07
Updated: 2021-03-05
Packaged: 2021-03-09 00:35:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 18
Words: 166,480
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27425800
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ian_Otter/pseuds/Ian_Otter
Summary: Before the Fall of Reach, the Battle of Actium was one of the bloodiest land battles of the Human-Covenant War. Experience the fighting through the eyes of those who fought, and died, in her defense.
Kudos: 5





	1. Welcome to Actium

**Author’s Note** : Hello, and welcome the story.

This story takes place in 2545, 7 years before the events of Halo: Combat Evolved. Most of the cast are OCs.  
  


* * *

**Camp Hoxha, 65 kilometers north of Byzas**   
**Moesia Province, Actium**   
**May 6, 2545**   
**0500 (Three hours before contact)**

**Private Marcus Olsen**

  
The bus rattled and shook as it hit a pothole, snapping Private Marcus Olsen out of his thoughts and causing him to bump shoulders into the soldier seated next to him. The man, whose biceps looked about as big as Marcus's head glared at him and Marcus could almost swear his eyes were glowing.

Mumbling a quick apology, Marcus tried to scoot away as far as possible from the man, which, despite its simplicity, was a lot harder than it sounded as Marcus was sitting right next to the window. Still, the motion seemed to mollify the man and Marcus let out a sigh of relief as he turned away, allowing Marcus to return to his thoughts. He stared bleakly out the window, barely noticing the snow-covered landscape as it rolled by. He didn't want to be here. Plain and simple. He didn't want to be here, on this bus, in this dreary place, in the Army, headed towards his first duty station.

How did it all go wrong? He had plans. He was going to go to college in some tropical paradise where he would have been able to spend his weekends at the bar sipping on cocktails and picking up chicks. On the weekdays, he would have been in class, studying to be a film producer where, upon graduation, he would have found a job that would have allowed him to travel the galaxy, producing films that would have won him fame and fortune. That's what he was supposed to do. That was his plan. At no point did he ever intend to join the Army.

And yet, here he was.

Marcus just didn't understand. By official accounts, while humanity wasn't winning the war against the Covenant, they were at least holding their own. Yet, the Security Council still decided to implement a draft a few years ago, to make up for what they were calling a "shortfall" in numbers. While recruitment quotas had been left for the individual colonies to decide, unfortunately, Marcus apparently lived on a very patriotic colony; Actium had responded by just about drafting every single boy and girl who had turned eighteen since then. There only seemed to be three reliable ways to avoid it: be the son or daughter of someone important, go to one of the military academies, or enlist in one of the colony's militias.

As the only son of a factory foreman and an accountant, the first method wasn't an option for him. He would have joined a military academy, except Marcus wasn't interested in devoting eight more years of his life to the military after he graduated. Which left the militias: the Provincial Militia and the Actium Colonial Militia.

If it were up to him, Marcus would have joined his local Provincial Militia. They had all the benefits: as a reserve unit, they only met once a month for drills, and only on the weekends at that, meaning Marcus could have devoted all his free time to doing whatever he wanted. Joining his local militia would have meant he would have been able to stay close to home, meaning he probably could have stayed with his parents. Finally, but most importantly, the Provincial Militia never got deployed off world, meaning unless Actium itself were to get attacked, Marcus would have had to never worry about getting sent into combat. It would have been a win-win situation for him.

Except it seemed as though fate was conspiring against him. Less than two weeks before Marcus was going to sign the paperwork to enlist, the provincial governor had announced that, effective immediately, his local Provincial Militia was to be reduced in size by half, thus allowing for more people to be available to be drafted by the UNSC. Because of that, they were no longer taking new recruits, and Marcus was forced to quickly join the Actium Colonial Militia before he could get swept up by UNSC recruiters. But because of the haste, Marcus was forced to accept whatever they wanted him to do. Which meant despite his great displeasure, Marcus was assigned to the active duty side of the Colonial Militia and sent to this crappy place on the other side of the Euxine Ocean! If there was one consolation prize, it was that Marcus had at least managed to avoid being assigned a combat job. But then again, what he got wasn't that much better.

Marcus subtly glanced at the transfer orders he had in his hands. He had been assigned as an 88M - Motor Transport Operator, aka, a truck driver. It was the stupidest thing ever. Hadn't the Army ever heard of self-driving vehicles? Why exactly did they need someone like him to drive trucks around? Plus, it wasn't exactly the safe, cushy job Marcus had been hoping for. His time in AIT had shown that the Army expected even glorified truck drivers to get attacked every now and then, which gave Marcus a fair amount of consternation. Why couldn't he have been assigned to something safer, like a quartermaster or military intelligence or something like that? What exactly had he done to cause God to hate him so?

Marcus was jarred out of his thoughts when he felt the bus start to slow down. He looked up to see they had arrived at their destination. He watched through the window as the bus pulled up to the front gate before coming to a complete stop.

 _"Camp Hoxha,"_ the bus chimed before, with a hiss of pneumatics, the doors opened.

All around him, Marcus's traveling companions for the last forty some minutes began to stretch and gather their things before climbing to their feet and walking towards the door. He watched through the window as they filtered out of the bus and headed towards the camp's gate where they were processed by the scarlet-beret clad military police officers standing guard there, before disappearing behind the camp walls. Marcus knew he should join them but for the moment, he just sat there, wondering what would happen if he just didn't leave the bus. There was no one here to make him get off; this bus, like all public transportation vehicles, was driven by the city superintendent, so no one could physically force him off. Eventually, the AI's programming would force the bus to return to its regular route, even if Marcus was still sitting there. He could sit there and wait as the bus returned to the airport, then buy a one-way ticket back home and forget about this Army business. He would probably get dishonorable discharge for deserting, but honestly, would that really be all that bad?

Marcus snorted. Of course it would. Not only would a dishonorable discharge look really bad on his record and make things very difficult for him in the future, there was always public perception: on a colony like this where everyone had family or a friend in uniform, not only were deserters ostracized and shunned by society, so were their families. And while Marcus felt like he could handle being the colony's outcast, he didn't think his parents could. So, with a loud sigh, Marcus grabbed his duffle bag and reluctantly walked off the bus.

Shivering because of the cold, Marcus walked through the gateway. He was the last one through. As soon as he cleared the path, there was a rattling of metal and he turned around in time to see the MPs closing the gate behind him.

Well, running was out of the question now.

Jogging to catch up with the rest of the group from the bus, Marcus quickly fell in line, hoping they knew where they were going. Camp Hoxha was a small base but in the dark, it looked really easy to get turned around, especially since all the buildings looked the same. Marcus dolefully plodded along the snow-covered sidewalks until the group reached one of the buildings and walked inside. He absentmindedly knocked the snow off his boots as he sighed in relief as the warm air washed over him.

Inside, there wasn't much to see. Just a couple of bored looking soldiers manning some reception desks. Marcus’ group was already forming lines behind each desk, and Marcus hastily moved to join one of them. He noticed everyone was handing the soldiers manning the desk their transfer orders, and Marcus realized these two men were responsible for checking everybody in. It struck Marcus as a rather inefficient system; surely it would be faster for an AI to conduct the check-in, rather than a couple of soldiers? But then again, this did fit Marcus's experience with the Army so far. Even in BCT and AIT, Marcus had noticed the Army was rather traditional in the sense they always seemed to prefer to have humans do jobs that really should have been allocated to AIs.

Marcus absentmindedly began fiddling with the strap to his duffle bag as he stood there, waiting. Now this, this right here, really made Marcus feel like he was back in basic. Standing in line, just waiting for something to happen. It was amazing, really, just how boring the Army actually was. Marcus had figured the Army was going to be a lot of things but boring was never one of them. That's not to say he wanted it to be any other way, it's just that standing here waiting in this line, Marcus couldn't help but think about all the other things he’d rather be doing right now.

Finally, it was his turn.

"Next," the soldier at the desk called out.

Marcus marched over to the desk. He dropped his duffle bag on the ground and, just because he didn't know what else to do, snapped to attention. The soldier at the desk didn't even look up.

"Transfer orders?"

Marcus handed them over.

"Name, rank, service number?" the soldier asked as he took Marcus's orders.

"Olsen, Marcus T. Private," Marcus reported, and noticed the soldier appeared to be double checking the information Marcus was providing to the information displayed on his transfer orders. "Service number is 87662, 12457, O, M.”

"What's your MOS?"

"88M."

The soldier grunted in acknowledgement before falling silent. Marcus waited a bit impatiently as the soldier began typing in all the information Marcus had provided him into a data pad before opening another page. The soldier then abruptly picked up a phone. 

"Good morning First Sergeant Rivera, this is Private Orlović over here at battalion reception," the man said into the receiver. "I have a new eighty-eight Mike who just arrived on base this morning. Do you think your company could use him?"

"Hooah, First Sergeant," Orlović said after a couple of minutes. "Are you going to send someone over to pick him up? Okay, roger, I'll have him wait. Thanks, Top."

Orlović hung up the phone. Turning to his data pad, he quickly typed in something before glancing at Marcus, who automatically straightened.

"You're getting assigned to the 707th Transportation Company," Marcus was informed. "Someone is coming to pick you up. Go down the hall and go wait in the waiting room until they arrive."

Marcus sighed. More waiting. "Thanks, I guess," he said.

"Yeah, bro," Orlović replied as he handed Marcus back his transfer orders. "Next!"

Marcus grabbed his orders in one hand and his duffle bag in the other before heading in the direction the man indicated. He plopped himself into one of the available seats before pulling out his transfer orders. They had been updated. Originally, all they said that he was getting transferred to Camp Hoxha in the Thracia Province. It still read that, but now it also stated that he was getting assigned to the 325th Combat Sustainment Support Battalion, of the 197th Sustainment Brigade.

Marcus re-read that first part. Combat Sustainment Support. Hm. He wasn't too sure what that meant, honestly, but the fact that the word "combat" was part of his battalion's name wasn't exactly encouraging. Combat was the last thing he wanted to see. He could only hope and pray that the name was just that, a name, and wasn't indicative of the roles he could expect to see.

Cold air blew through the room as someone walked into the building. Marcus looked up to see a soldier, wearing the three chevrons of an Army sergeant, enter the room.

"Morning everyone. I'm looking for," he glanced at a data pad in his hands, "Private Olsen, Marcus T.?"

Marcus' head snapped up and he raised his hand. "That's me, sir."

The man walked over to Marcus.

"Sergeant Theodore Dresden," he declared. "Guess I'm your new squad leader."

Marcus immediate leapt to his feet and snapped to attention. "Private Marcus Olsen, reporting as ordered, sir!" he barked like he'd been taught during basic.

Dresden chuckled. "Relax, Private. No need to shout. We're Colonial Militia, not the goddamn Special Forces. Come on, grab your stuff. Let's get you over to the dorms, get you settled in."

Marcus hastily stuffed his orders into his pockets and grabbed his duffle bag, slinging it over his shoulder as he followed Dresden outside. Sitting outside was a small, four-seater golf cart. Gesturing for Marcus to sit in the front passenger seat, Dresden hopped into the driver's and took off.

"So Olsen, Marcus T., how you doing?" Dresden began conversationally. "What's your story, what's your background? You from around here?"

Marcus shook his head. "No, sir, not around here. I'm from overseas. Levant. City of Astoria in the Aquincum Province."

"Astoria, huh?" Dresden commended. "Never been there personally, but I heard it's a nice place. You like it?"

"Well, I grew up there, sir," Marcus awkwardly commented.

Dresden laughed. "Okay, fair enough. Well, I was going to ask where you transferred from, but I think I can guess: you straight out of AIT?"

"Yes, sir," Marcus answered, surprised. "How did you know?"

"You keep calling me 'sir.' Drill sergeants make you call them 'sir' or 'ma'am' but out here in the real world, only commissioned officers and warrant officers are supposed to get called that."

Dresden pulled the cart to the side and stopped in front of one of the buildings.

"Now, I don't give a shit what you call me," Dresden cheerfully continued as he climbed out of the cart and gestured for Marcus to do the same. "Like I said, we're Colonial Militia, and combat service support at that. Call me Sarge, Sergeant, or Dresden. Hell, you can call me Theo if you like. Whatever you want. We try to keep a chillaxed atmosphere around here. But, do be careful who you call 'sir.' Some people kind of take that personally."

"Yes, sir!" Marcus automatically barked out, then froze. "Uh, I mean, Sergeant. Sarge. Theo. Sorry."

Dresden laughed. "Don't worry about it dude. Seriously, relax. You don't need to get so worked up." He jerked his head in the direction of the building. "Come on. Let's get you set up in your room."

He turned and headed for the door. As Marcus followed in his wake, he couldn't help but let out a sigh of relief. If Dresden was anything to go by, then this entire Army thing might not turn out to be as bad as it seemed.

He might actually enjoy this.

**XXXXX**

  
**Town of Newington, 15 kilometers south of Byzas**   
**Thracia Province, Actium**   
**May 6, 2545**   
**0600 (Two hours before contact)**

**1st Lieutenant Link “Zelda” Kepler**

  
_BUZZ!_

1st Lieutenant Link “Zelda” Kepler jerked awake at the sound of his communicator going off. He automatically lifted his arm to grab it, only find it being blocked by a sleeping woman. At the once, the events of last night came streaming back into his mind, and Zelda couldn’t help but smirk even as he lashed out with his free hand and snagged the small communicator off his night stand.

“ – lo?” he mumbled when he finally managed to stick the piece into his ear. At once, a holographic image of a very irate man appeared before his very eyes.

 _“Are you fucking kidding me, Zelda? You’re still in bed!?”_ the man harshly demanded.

“And a good morning to you, Captain Odessa Lords,” Zelda replied with a yawn. “And how are you doin' on this fine Tuesday morning?”

 _“Enough with the jokes, Zelda,”_ Odessa snapped. _“You were supposed to be in ten minutes ago. Where the fuck are you?”_

“Ah, what's your rush, dude?” Zelda airily replied. “You know Marshmallow lets me get away with just about anything – I’m his best pilot by far, after all!”

 _“Even if that were remotely true, it hardly matters anymore,”_ Odessa snapped back before taking a deep breath. _“Colonel Russo is out.”_

That caught Zelda's attention and he automatically shot straight up, inadvertently waking his bed companion in the process, who looked around the room with beady eyes. He ignored her though, focusing his attention on Odessa. “What the hell do you mean by that!?”

 _“Word came down late last night: Marshmallow's wife was shot down and killed in action over Newsaka,”_ Odessa grimly reported. _“He was granted emergency family leave, probably left the system a few hours ago.”_

Zelda grimly absorbed the information. Lieutenant Colonel Russo's wife had been an Air Force… Longsword pilot? Or maybe she had flown Pelicans. Either way, as tragic as that incident was, Zelda was admittedly more concerned about, “Who's running the squadron now?”

_“Major Pax.”_

Zelda scowled. “Bellum's in charge? Why? She fucking hates me!”

 _“Gee, maybe it’s got something to with the fact she's the executive officer,”_ Odessa sarcastically replied. _“As for her hating you, well, that's the reason you need to get your ass in **right fucking now!”**_

“Alright, alright, I’m going,” Zelda replied as he reluctantly climbed out of bed and began digging through his closet for a flight suit. “I’ll be there in ten.”

_“Make in five. Odessa, out.”_

Odessa's image disappeared before Zelda could snort.

“Who was that?”

Zelda glanced back towards his bed where his bedmate was sitting, blanket wrapped around her naked body in an attempt to ward off the cold.

“My flight leader and wingman,” Zelda casually replied, even as he frantically tried to remember her name. It started with an ‘A,’ he remembered that much. Amy? Or Amelia? Maybe it was Amber. Hmm. That sounded right. “Sorry, didn’t mean to wake you. You can go back to sleep.”

Amber shook her head as she shrugged the blankets off her shoulders. “Nah, it’s better this way. I need to report back to my ship in a couple of hours, and I should probably let my friend know you didn’t kidnap me and, I dunno, brutally murder me or something.”

With that, she climbed out of bed and began gathering up her clothes that had been scattered around the room. Zelda leaned against the doorway to enjoy the view as Amber subsequently threw her clothes back, topping it off with a well-worn UNSC Navy work jacket. As a general rule, Zelda tried to avoid sleeping with fellow service members – even ones from other branches and especially not enlisted personnel – but every now and then he came across an exception to the rule. And Amber had definitely been worth it.

Without warning, Zelda abruptly felt a wave of longing pass over him, and he couldn’t prevent the next few words from spilling out of his mouth, “See you around?”

Amber paused, halfway through zipping up her jacket to give him an odd look.

“Probably not,” she said, dispassionately, before walking out of the door without a second glance. Zelda waited until she was out of earshot, before letting out a loud groan.

“Great. Good going, Zelda,” he said as he vigorously rubbed his eyes before running his hands through his hair. “Why the hell did I say that!? Now she's gonna think I’m super fucking clingy!”

Letting out a string of curses under his breath, Zelda would have stayed there for who knows how long, if his communicator had not suddenly let out a loud buzz, causing him to jump in fright.

“Ah, fuck off Odessa!” Zelda exclaimed, even as he darted out the door. “Alright, I’m going, I’m going!”

He headed towards the elevator and rode it all the way down to the underground garage where he kept his motorcycle. It was admittedly too cold to be riding his bike, but if he was as late as Odessa seemed to think he was, then public transportation just wasn't going to cut it: he had a need for speed.

Hopping onto his motorcycle, Zelda did his best to coax out every ounce of horsepower from his vehicle. He had spent quite a lot of money making sure his bike had the best and fastest engine on the market; it was, after all, the only way for him to recreate the speed and agility of his beloved F-41A "Broadsword" fighter, short of actually being in one. Plus, the ladies seemed to love it, which was always a bonus.

That speed, coupled with his natural talent at flying, allowed him to make it to the gates of O’Neill Air Force Base in exactly seven minutes. Slowing down as he approached the front gate, he waited until the base security had scanned, and then cleared him for entrance before driving his bike directly to the fighter hangers. There was a parking lot designated for the air base personnel which is where he technically was supposed to park, but there was no way he was going to leave his baby out in the snow like that.

Stashing his bike near the mechanic's station, which he knew he would be able to get away with because the chief mechanic had a crush on him, Zelda began making his way towards the squadron briefing room, hoping he could sneak his way in without getting spotted by Pax. He had just put his hand on the door knob when:

"Lieutenant Kepler!"

Zelda grimaced and turned around. Walking towards him was his newly inducted squadron commander, Major Katherine "Bellum" Pax, with a rather annoyed look on her face. Following behind her was Odessa, looking highly amused.

Quickly adopting an air of innocence, Zelda lifted his hand in greeting, as if he hadn't been trying to avoid them.

"Good morning Bellum!" he greeted as brightly as he could. "I guess congrats are in order: you’re finally in charge of the squadron, just like you always wanted!”

“Not that I’m saying you wanted what happened to Marshmallow's wife, of course,” he hastily added at the incredulous look that appeared on Bellum's face. “It's just, uh… has anyone told you, you look absolutely stunning today? New hair style?"

Bellum stared at him like he was an idiot, before shaking her head.

"It’s been like that for over a week now," she dryly informed him, clearly opting to ignore the first part of his ramblings. "You're just noticing now?"

"No, of course not!" Zelda said smoothly. "I just haven't had the chance to fully appreciate it, what with us being so busy and all."

"Uh huh," Bellum said, clearly not buying it. "You're in an oddly cheerful mood today."

Zelda brightened. "You know, it's funny you should say that because I actually had an excellent -"

Bellum held up her hand. "Let me just stop you right there: that? That was me just making a comment: I didn’t come over here to listen to your life’s story. No, the reason why I called you over is because of this." She thrusted a data pad into his hands. "Your after-action report from yesterday is incomplete. We need to go prep our Broadswords, but after we're done, I want it finished and on my desk by the next hour. That understood Zelda?"

"Your wish is my command!" Zelda announced flirtatiously.

Bellum snorted, then walked away and Zelda let out a mute sigh of relief. For whatever reason, it looked as if Bellum wasn't going to ream him out for being late. Thank god.

"Oh, and Zelda? One last thing."

"Son of a bitch!" Zelda swore under his breath. He knew he shouldn't have said anything. Fuck.

Bellum raised an eyebrow. "Excuse me?"

"Uh, I mean," Zelda trailed off as he casted around the room, looking for some excuse for him to have cursed like that. He couldn't find anything, and his ability to bullshit was getting compromised by the fact that Odessa looked like he was on the verge of bursting out laughing. "What I meant by that was, uh, 'Son of a bitch! I left my coffee on my kitchen counter!'"

"You don't drink coffee," Bellum pointed out.

"I just started?" Zelda said. "I mean... I just started."

"Oh, is that why you're on time for once?" Bellum noted. "I was about to say, will this become a daily occurrence from now on?"

Zelda didn't respond because at that point, he had stopped listening and was instead staring at Odessa in astonishment. Unfortunately, Bellum seemed to take that as a negative and let out a sigh. "Yeah, I didn't think so. Well, of all the days you needed to be on time, today would have been it: the squadron is on QRA duty. If you were late - and on my first day as squadron commander - I would have… well, I don’t know what I would have done, but I guarantee it wouldn’t have been pretty."

With that, Bellum walked away, leaving Zelda gaping at Odessa.

"You told me I was late," Zelda accused as soon as Bellum was out of earshot.

Odessa shrugged, unapologetically. "And if I hadn't, you would have been."

"You conniving son of a bitch," Zelda said with a shake of his head. "You know I had a chick over last night, right? I could have stayed in bed with her a bit longer if not for you!"

"Any woman who could be convinced to spend the night with you, is probably not a woman worth knowing for very long," Odessa casually noted. "Almost seems like I did you a favor: saved you from not only getting reamed by Pax, but also from having to pay future child support."

"Child support? Pft. What, you think I'm dumb enough to get some chick pregnant?"

"I think you think more with your dick than you do with your brain," Odessa dryly noted. "I think if a woman stripped naked in front of you, you'd jump straight into it, without even bothering to stop and put on a condom or make sure she was on the pill or something."

Zelda opened his mouth to protest, but then stopped as he remembered that was exactly what had happened last night, so he tried a different tactic. "Hey, my instincts are what made me into the best fighter pilot in the entire AO."

Odessa raised an eyebrow. "Best fighter pilot? I'm sorry, but who won our last matchup? And the one before that? It certainly wasn't someone named Link."

Zelda growled at the reminder. That loss had been a hard pill to swallow. "I had a bad wingman and you know it."

"True," Odessa conceded. "But as someone once told me: 'a win is a win. Everything else is just excuses.'"

"What sort of dumbass said that?"

"You did."

That stopped Zelda short. "Must have said that before I started losing," he muttered to himself. "Fine then. You and me, one on one. No wingmen, no handicaps, nothing. Just a duel between two gentlemen. Let's do it."

"As much as I'd like to show you some real flying, you know we can't. Not today. We're on quick reaction alert duty. And you know what that means," Odessa pointed out.

Zelda let out a sigh of annoyance. Unfortunately, he did know what that meant: a long day of sitting on his ass, waiting for something to happen. It was because of bullshit like that made Zelda sometimes regret his decision to join the military in the first place. If it weren’t for the fact the Air Force left him fly supersonic jets, he probably would have left ages ago.

Well that, and the fact there was a literal war of extermination currently going on…

"ODESSA! ZELDA!" Bellum suddenly yelled, causing Zelda to jump. "Ladies, you have plenty of time to flirt later! Pre-flight checks! Let's go!"

Zelda let out a sigh before heading towards his Broadsword. This was going to be a long and boring day.

**XXXXX**

  
**Graham Quarry, 57 kilometers southwest of Byzas**   
**Thracia Province, Actium**   
**May 6, 2545**   
**0700 (One hour before contact)**

**Sergeant Tariq Helmand**

  
Sergeant Tariq Helmand let out a loud, aggravated sigh, as a dull THUD echoed through the confines of the vehicle and the tank began rattling and shaking.

“Sonofa…” he began before he impulsively grabbed a nearby bullet casing and hurtled it at the back of his new tank driver's head. “Motherfucker! What part of ‘follow in the lead tank's tracks' did you not understand! FUCK!”

His driver flinched, but to his credit, didn’t bother trying to defend himself. Instead, Tariq could see him reaching for the gear shift –

“No, don’t fuckin' do that!” Tariq snapped. “You’re gonna fuck things up even more! Stop the fucking tank so we can get the fuck out and see what the fuck is wrong! Fuck! What the fuck are they teaching you fuckers in OSUT!?”

“Whoa. You alright there, Sergeant?”

Tariq whirled around at the sound of the newcomer's voice, only to see his tank commander, 2nd Lieutenant Columbus Buckley, climbing down from the commander's hatch where he had been scanning the horizon for threats with a pair of thermal binoculars. Plopping down into his seat, he gave Tariq a mild look of bemusement.

“No, sir, I’m not fucking okay, sir,” Tariq snapped, doing his best but failing miserably to hide his aggravation. Buckley frowned.

“Sergeant, take a deep breath and calm the fuck down, holy shit. What the hell just happened?”

“We just lost a fucking track, sir,” Tariq snarled. “Because fuckface here – “

“Whoa, take it easy Sergeant,” Buckley interrupted before Tariq could continue his rant. “There's no need for that type of language. Specialist Koroma is straight out of training so he doesn’t have the same amount of experience you do, but I’m sure he’s trying his best. Aren’t you, Specialist?”

Koroma miserably nodded his head. “Yes, sir.”

“See?” Buckley pointed, as if that somehow made everything better. “Besides, that’s why we're all here at this training center: so the entire brigade can not only learn to work together as one cohesive unit, but also so individual members can gain almost as much experience as the veterans. Now, come on, let’s dismount and see what the damage amounts to. You too, Specialist.”

Hiding his aggravated sigh, Tariq reached out to grab a can of dip, popping a copious amount of tobacco into his mouth while at the same time, reaching up and pushing the gunner's hatch open. Wiggling his way out of his seat - and snagging his M7 SMG on his way there out of habit – he exited the tank and emerged into the fresh cold air of the early winter morning.

Outside it was pitch black – dark enough Tariq couldn’t see anything beyond a hundred centimeters in front of him without night optics – but Tariq had been working around M850 “Grizzly” main battle tanks for nearly five years now, and he knew every line and every curve of the tank like the back of his hand. By the time he made it down to the snow covered ground, Buckley had already conduct a full walk around of the entire tank and identified the location of the break.

“Well, that doesn’t look too bad,” Buckley was informing Koroma by the time Tariq had joined them by the front right track pod. Buckley had already pulled out a flashlight and was using it to point out the damage, but that was hardly enough light for Tariq’s liking so he quickly pulled out his own. “Looks like the track just slipped off the drive sprocket is all. It didn’t break nothing: bogies look intact, tensioner is in good condition, and none of the sprocket teeth are bent. All in all, it could have been worse.”

“Thank fucking god for small mercies,” Tariq muttered under his breath as he viciously spat on the ground. More loudly he said, “We’re still gonna need to get the fucking side skirt off, sir, before we can begin work. And dig this bitch out.”

“Then we better get started,” Buckley jauntily replied. “Hey, Specialist!”

Koroma started. “Sir?”

“Go get the tools. Make sure to get the crowbar and the shovels.”

“Yessir!”

“Now, let me show you guys a trick I learned back when I was an 11M with the 31st Armored,” Buckley declared with a grin as Koroma ran off. Tariq frowned as he noticed Buckley beginning to roll up his sleeves.

Spitting out his wad of tobacco, Tariq reached out and grabbed Buckley by the shoulder. “Sir, what do you think you’re doin'?”

Buckley gave him a puzzled look. “I reckon I’m fixin’ to go fix this track, Sergeant.”

Tariq sighed, and resisted the urge to rub his temples. “With all due respect, sir: no you’re not.”

Buckley blinked.

“Sergeant, I don’t know if you’ve noticed,” he began, sounding bemused, “but I’m in charge here – “

“That's the problem, sir, you are in charge,” Tariq interrupted. He threw a glance over his shoulder to make sure Koroma wasn’t within earshot, before leaning in close and quietly say, “Sir, you’re not an enlist man anymore, you’re an officer. Your job ain’t to get down in the weeds with the rest of us, it’s to give orders and delegate. And that's what you need to be doing right now.”

Tariq watched as a look of confusion passed over Buckley’s face, and he bit back a sigh before hammering the point in. “Sir, do you even know what the fuck the rest of the platoon is doing right now?”

A look of dismay seemed to pass over Buckley’s face, before he glanced at the thrown track before glancing back at Tariq’s face.

“R… right,” Buckley stuttered, before clearing his throat. “Um… maybe you should handle this, Sergeant. I’ll just, um…”

Tariq watched as Buckley took a step back, looking lost.

“Sir? Maybe you should go and let the rest of the platoon know what’s going on,” Tariq suggested when it became clear a moment later that Buckley wasn’t going anywhere. “And then go check in with our infantry support, and see if they’ve pushed out security or not?”

Buckley visibly jumped, before looking around as if he didn’t know where he was.

“That's, um… that's a good idea, Sergeant,” he said awkwardly. “I’ll, uh, I'll go do that while… that is to say, you and Specialist Koroma get this tank back in working condition. Report back to me once you’re finish.”

“Sounds like a plan to me, sir,” Tariq replied.

Buckley nodded and turned around to walk away, only to almost run smack into another man.

“Oop – sorry, sir!”

“No worries,” Tariq heard Buckley quickly say. “That was my fault, Sergeant Preve… Perev…

“You can just call me ‘Chenko,’ sir,” the man replied, relieving Buckley of his struggles. “Everybody else does.”

Tariq could hear Buckley nodding his head. “Very good, Sergeant Chenko. Um… as you were.”

“Sir.”

Tariq waited until he heard Buckley walk away, before looking up and exchanging a bemused look with his best friend, Sergeant Svyatoslav "Chenko" Perevernykruchenko.

“Gawd damn!” Chenko spoke in a low voice to make sure it didn’t travel in the cold night, but there was no hiding the amusement in his voice. “If I didn’t know better, I would have thought this was the first time the man’s been out in the field!”

Tariq let out a derisive snort.

“That’s cause the fucking idiot still doesn’t know what the fuck he’s doing,” he growled under his breath, before agitatedly pointing in the direction Buckley had left. “You know, everyone always tells me that Mustangs make the best officers, but so far, I ain’t impressed. This fucking dumbass acts like he just graduated from OCS!”

“Well, to be fair, he did,” Chenko pointed out with a careless shrug of his shoulders. “It’s only been, what, a month? Two months? Since he was first assigned to this unit?”

“Still, the fucker has served in an armored unit before. He’s been in combat. He should know what a lieutenant does. Yet he’s acting like he’s a dumbass butterbar fresh off the street. Like, what the fuck?” Tariq reached up to run a hand through his hair, only to find the action was blocked by his helmet. “Fuck! And you know what the saddest part is? I finally get it when my mother always told me I drove her to drink.”

Chenko let out an appreciative snort as he pulled out a can of chewing tobacco and offered some to Tariq, who gratefully took a pinch. “Missing your old crew already?”

“Fuck yeah,” Tariq emphatically stated. “Seriously, why’d you have to join the dark side? You, a goddamn crunchie? I thought you were smarter than that. Should have stayed in the tank with me.”

Tariq had intended his comment to be a joke, but from the grim look Chenko gave him, it was clear he took it as anything but.

“You know the answer to that,” Chenko darkly replied, and Tariq felt himself shiver in a way that had nothing to do with the cold.

“Anyways,” Tariq began a moment later, in an effort to clear the dark cloud that had suddenly fell over them. “What the fuck are you doin’ here? Shouldn’t you be with the rest of the infantry guys, watching the perimeter? After all, isn’t that what you guys are? Glorified security guards?”

Chenko let out an appreciative snort as a challenging gleam entered his eyes. “Oh, sure. Yeah, we’ll see what you have to say when we prevent a fuel rod cannon team from launching a rocket up your ass.”

“I thought you liked it up the ass,” Tariq sneered.

“Only if they give me a reacharound,” Chenko slyly returned.

Tariq couldn’t help himself: he burst out laughing.

“You’re a fucking pervert. You know that, right?” Tariq retorted, though without any real malice. “Get the fuck outta here, bro. The real men around here have got some work to do, and you’re distracting me.”

“’Real men,’ huh?” Chenko shot back, even as he started walking away. “Remind me again: who are the dudes who have to face the Covenant ‘mano y mano,’ versus the pussies who do it while hiding behind nearly a meter worth of steel and composite armor?”

Tariq grinned and waited until Chenko was almost out of earshot before yelling, “That’s just being smart, dude!”

He could hear Chenko let out a surprised bark of laughter, before he completely faded into the darkness, leaving Tariq alone by his tank. Tariq could feel his grin sliding off his face as he slowly turned back to confront his damaged vehicle, and mentally began calculating the best and fastest way to restore the MBT back to working order.

“And where the fuck is my driver!?” he exclaimed to himself. “How fucking long does it take to get some goddamn tools!?”

With a loud huff, Tariq turned to go look for him. Between dumbass lieutenants and brain dead FNGs – 

\- this was going to be a long day.

**XXXXX**

  
**Yankee Remote Scanning Outpost, Heliopause, Ambracia System**   
**May 6, 2545**   
**0753 (Seven minutes before contact)**

  
...INITIALIZING...

SIGNAL DETECTED.

WARNING! PROFILE MATCHES SIGNATURE OF INBOUND SHIPS.

SEARCHING DATABASE FOR SCHEDULED FLEET ARRIVALS.

...

....

.....

ERROR! NO MATCH FOUND!

SEARCHING CIVILIAN MANIFESTS FOR SCHEDULED FLEET ARRIVALS.

...

....

.....

ERROR! NO MATCH FOUND!

SEARCHING MILITARY RECORDS FOR SCHEDULED FLEET ARRIVALS.

...

....

.....

ERROR! NO MATCH FOUND!

ATTEMPTING TO ESTABLISH COMMUNICATIONS: ATTEMPT 1.

...

....

ERROR! ATTEMPT FAILED. RETRY.

ATTEMPTING TO ESTABLISH COMMUNICATIONS: ATTEMPT 2.

...

....

ERROR! ATTEMPT FAILED. RAISING DEFCON ALERT STATUS TO LEVEL 2.

FINAL ATTEMPT TO ESTABLISH COMMUNICATIONS.

...

....

ERROR! ATTEMPT FAILED.

ALERTING ACTIUM DEFENSE COMMAND

…..

….

…

* * *

General Notes

**Battle: Actium:** The title of this story is inspired by the 2011 sci-fi film, Battle: Los Angeles (known internationally by the title, World Invasion: Battle Los Angeles,) starring Aaron Eckhart, Michelle Rodriguez, and Bridget Moynahan.

 **11M** : 11M is a former MOS (military occupational specialty, i.e. a soldier's job) code of the U.S. Army, used to designated “mechanized infantry.” It was combined with the 11B code (general infantry) in the early 2000’s, however given the theoretically massive size of the UNSC Army, I imagine more specialized infantry MOSs would have made a return.  
Mustang: slang term for a commissioned officer who began their career as an enlisted service member

 **Butterbar** : a condescending term used by the U.S. military to refer to brand new 2nd lieutenants. The term is derived from the fact that in the U.S. military, the rank insignia used to designate 2nd lieutenants (as well as ensigns in the Navy and Coast Guard,) is that of a single gold bar.

 **Crunchie** : derogatory term used by U.S. military tankers to refer to dismounted infantry. Derived from the noise infantry make when they get run over (crunch.) I’ve also read that the term might also come from the noise infantrymen made when walking through the thick undergrowth of the jungles of Vietnam


	2. Contact

**UNSC _Kilkis_ (BB-123), Geosynchronous Orbit, Actium  
May 6, 2545  
0755 (Five minutes before contact)**

**Fleet Admiral Lukas Spaatz**

“Sir? You wanted me to let you know when it was 1900 shipboard time.”

At the sound of his aide’s voice, Fleet Admiral Lukas Spaatz blinked in surprise as his distracted mind attempted to interpret the information he had just received. Looking up from the data pad he had been typing away on, he glanced at the clock mounted in the bulkhead wall nearby. “Good lord, is it really 1900 already? I’ve been working on these reports for over an hour?”

“It would appear so, yes, sir,” his aide gently replied.

Adjusting the collar on his service uniform, Spaatz sat up straighter in his chair and began stretching his back as well as he could, feeling very much his age of sixty-five standard years at the moment. As he did, he glanced in the direction of the bulkhead door where the hologram of his aide-de-camp – a second-generation “smart” AI that went by the name of Kanin – was standing in parade rest stance, patiently waiting for dismissal.

Over the course of his forty some-odd year naval career, Spaatz had the opportunity to work with a wide variety of smart AIs and out of all of them, Kanin was one of the more memorable ones, mostly because of his choice of avatar: generally speaking, when choosing an image to represent themselves, most smart AIs choose the form of some sort of human – or at least “near-human” – avatar in order to appear more trustworthy to the humans the served alongside. Not Kanin. Instead, his avatar was that of an anthropomorphic hare, clad in single breasted, scarlet colored, military style frock coat, complete with a set of unidentifiable medals pinned over his left breast. He wore no other articles of clothing, no pants or shoes, though he did have a cover, a simple black tricorne, that he would wear on occasion, but never indoors as that would be against Navy regulations.

However, fashion sense aside, Kanin had proven to be just as intelligent and capable as any member of his kind, and Spaatz was pleased to command him.

“Thank you, Kanin, that will be all,” Spaatz finally said as he finished his stretches and settled back in his chair.

“Of course, sir,” Kanin replied, amiable as ever and moved to dismiss himself before abruptly pausing. “Ah… one last thing, sir: my sensors are indicating that Admirals D'Amboise and Amarchih are currently approaching your office. Would you like to see them, or shall I wave them off?”

Spaatz took a moment to consider the question before shaking his head. “No, that won’t be necessary, Kanin, I’ll see what they want. Besides,” he gestured helplessly at the pile of data pads on his desk. “I need the break.”

“Very good, sir.”

Without another word, Kanin abruptly disappeared just as a series of knocks sounded from the door.

“Enter,” Spaatz calmly called out.

The metal door opened and two men walked in.

“Good lord, this room is a broom closet!” Fleet Admiral D’Amboise immediately exclaimed and before Spaatz could so much as raise his hand in greeting, he turned to the man walking behind. “Azouz, your men had _the_ Admiral Lukas Spaatz onboard and the first thing they did was shove him into a _broom closest?”_

Spaatz quickly brought his hand up to his mouth to mask the small smile that appeared on his face as the man trailing in D’Amboise wake, Admiral Azouz Amarchih, began to sputter comically.

“Sir, it’s only temporarily!” Amarchih protested. “A place to allow Admiral Spaatz to finish compiling his report for the inspection of Battleship Battle Group Ten!”

“Must not have done very well on the inspection then,” D’Amboise commented, even as his eyes continued to wander around the room.

Amarchih began indignantly sputtering, and it was at this point Spaatz decided to intervene.

“You know, Roger, I do believe it’s against Navy regulations to be tormenting your subordinates in such a manner,” Spaatz chided in a highly amused voice. As D’Amboise adopted a wounded look, Spaatz turned to the other man in the room. “Azouz, do calm down, Admiral D’Amboise is only teasing you; he’s well aware I request this office for my own affairs.”

Amarchih looked startled. “I see, Admiral?”

Spaatz smiled gently at him. “I realize, Admiral, you haven’t been assigned to this sector for very long, so you should know that among the senior staff, Admiral D’Amboise has a bit of a reputation for being a self-proclaimed ‘prankster.’ You’ll learn to get used to it, I’m sure.” He paused before allowing a long-suffering expression to appear on his face. “ ** _I_** certainly had to.”

“Why, Admiral! You wound me, good sir!” D’Amboise immediately retorted with mock offense. “I do not _prank,_ I merely insist that Actium Defense Command be the _best_ command among the entire UNSC armed forces. And I accomplish that by ensuring all field-grade and flag officers – as well as all senior enlisted advisors - be kept on their toes.”

“Ah,” Spaatz thoughtfully said, stroking his cleanly shaven chin. “So, your actions should be consider altruistic in nature, and not juvenile as they appear to be?”

D’Amboise opened his mouth, then slowly closed it.

“Okay, perhaps _some_ of them are juvenile in nature,” he sheepishly admitted.

Spaatz couldn’t help himself: he burst out laughing.

“Now,” he began once he was able to bring himself under control. “What can I do for you, gentlemen?”

“Nothing so serious, Lukas,” D’Amboise assured him. “Actually, Azouz and I were just on our way to the officers’ mess for some light supper and we were wondering if you cared to join us?”

“I’m told the chef onboard this battleship makes one hell of a Shepherd’s pie,” he added, enticingly.

“That is, of course, if you’re not busy, sir,” Amarchih quickly interjected. He gestured at the reports on Spaatz’s temporary desk. “We don’t wish to delay any deadlines.”

“Azouz, the thing about being the head of an entire FLEETCOM sector is that I, uh, I set the deadlines,” Spaatz mirthfully noted. “So, if I say these reports can wait, then they can wait.” Turning towards D’Amboise, Spaatz thoughtfully stroked his chin. “Shephard’s pie, you say? You know, I honestly can’t remember the last time I had Shepherd’s pie. I do believe that needs to be rectified. I think I will join you gentlemen.”

“Excellent,” D’Amboise declared as Spaatz climbed to his feet. He turned and gestured at Amarchih with a flourish. “Admiral? This is your flagship – by all means.”

Amarchih nodded. “Of course. If you would follow me, sirs?”

He turned and headed for the door but before he could even touch the handle, Kanin’s avatar abruptly sprang to life.

“Apologizes for the interruption, sirs,” Kanin said, looking at each Admiral in turn before stopping on Amarchih. “Admiral Amarchih? Captain Yirenkyi is requesting your presence in the CIC.”

“Did he say why?” Spaatz interjected before Amarchih could reply.

“No, sir, only that Admiral Amarchih come as soon as possible.”

Amarchih let out a loud sigh.

“Tell Captain Yirenkyi I’m on my way,” he ordered Kanin before turning to Spaatz and D’Amboise. “Apologizes, Admirals. I’ll summon a crewman and have them show you the way to the officer’s mess.”

“Nonsense,” Spaatz retorted. “There’s no need to bother one of your men over something so trivial. I’m sure whatever it is Captain Yirenkyi wishes to see you for, it won’t take long. We’ll all go to the CIC; and then afterwards, we’ll head to the mess.”

Beside him, Spaatz could see D'Amboise nodding in agreement.

“Very well, sir,” Amrachih replied. “Kanin? Inform Captain Yirenkyi I’m on my way.”

“Sir.”

The three men exited the room and calmly made their way towards the combat information center, located deep in the heart of the ship itself. Fortunately, despite the massive size of the _Vindication_ -class light battleship they were on, the CIC wasn't located too far away, just a short walk down the passageway. It was, after all, part of the reason why Spaatz had requested this office: it was the closest one to the CIC which meant Spaatz would be the first in line to receive any sort of new information the ship's scanners and sensors might have picked up.

That, and Spaatz was far too old to be running through the ship in the event of an emergency.

Briefly acknowledging the various crewmen they walked past on their journey, Spaatz followed Amarchih into the control room itself.

"ADMIRAL ON DECK!" someone immediately called out the moment Spaatz entered.

"Carry on!" Spaatz barked before the vast majority of the technicians could climb to their feet. The last thing he wanted to do was interrupt anyone's duties.

As the remaining sailors sat back down, Spaatz's eyes immediately zeroed in on the display currently showing the ship's current defensive readiness condition level, a deeply ingrained habit from a long career. He frowned when he realized the ship was now at DEFCON 2. Due to the ongoing war against the Covenant, it wasn't unusual for a ship to raise a level without warning, however usually Spaatz would have received some sort of briefing as to why by now. Perhaps that was what Yirenkyi wanted to discuss.

Ignoring the rest of the monitors and displays that covered just about every conceivable surface in the room - all of which, Spaatz noted, were currently on and manned, Spaatz made his way to the center of the room where a large tactical display was situated. Such a state of readiness was decidedly unusual for a ship at port. Standing by the display was Kanin, as well as the captain of the _Kilkis,_ Captain Yirenkyi.

"Admiral Spaatz, Admiral D’Amboise, Admiral Amarchih," Yirenkyi straightened and greeted each of the three admirals in turn, before turning to Spaatz with a look of dismay on his face. "My apologies, sir, when I requested Kanin to find Admiral Amarchih, I didn't intend for him to request your presence too."

Spaatz immediately held up a halting hand.

"No apologizes necessary, Captain," Spaatz returned. "I happened to be standing right next to Admiral Amarchih when he received your request, and I decided I would tag along. Please, by all means: what appears to be the issue?"

Yirenkyi glanced at Amarchih, who nodded in confirmation.

"If you'll turn your attention to the main screen, sirs," Yirenkyi began gesturing at the display.

Spaatz glanced at the display. At the moment, the display was centered on the planet of Actium, with yellow dots representing every single space station, platform, and satellite, military and civilian ship currently in orbit around the planet. As was typical, Actium's orbit was full of activity: aside from the usual armada of civilian spacecraft, Actium was also home to the UNSC Navy's Sixth Fleet - of which consisted of well over three dozen warships. In fact, the space lanes surrounding the planet were even busier than usual. Not only were elements of the Navy's Nineteenth Fleet stopped here for rest and refuel before they continued onto the outer colonies, but two fleet carriers from the Air Force’s No. 60 Strategic Airlift Group as well as their escorts were also present. The two massive Air Force craft were delivering more fighter squadrons to the planet's already impressive defensive fleet.

However, it was quickly made clear that whatever had caught Yirenkyi's attention wasn't something in orbit as he entered a series of commands and immediately the display began to change, zipping away from Actium and out towards the edge of the system.

"What is the issue, Captain?" Amarchih asked as Spaatz watch the display zip past the planets of Tenedos, Korakension, and then Myonessus, before slowing down as it began to reach the Heliopause.

"Yankee RSO located in the Heliopause picked up the signature of a large mass moving through slipspace in our direction, sir," Yirenkyi reported. "The onboard AI concluded the signature matched that of an inbound fleet."

Spaatz could almost swear he felt his heart skip a beat at that, and willed himself to remain calm. He instead waited to see how Amarchih would react.

Amarchih frowned.

"'A fleet?'" he repeated as he leaned forward, taking command of the conversation. "Were we able to obtain a positive identification?"

Yirenkyi shook his head. "The RSO is an older model; it’s not equipped with slipstream space probes and thus, not capable of that fine tune identification.”

"Have we verified this mass is not an inbound civilian or military convoy?" Amarchih asked, glancing at Kanin.

"Yes, Admiral. Twice. No fleet of that size is scheduled to arrive in system within the next two weeks. Furthermore, all attempts at establishing communications with the mass have failed."

"Failed because we were unable to go through, or because they were rejecting the call?"

"The first time failed to patch through sir, the second was deflected."

"And we sure this signature is actually there? That it's not a glitch?"

Kanin reached up to scratch one of his long, furry ears."

"As sure as we can be sir, without being able to physically examine the hardware. Sir, I should point out that the _Kilkis_ is not the only one who's noticed this blip. In fact, Admiral D’Amboise, Heliopolis Station has been attempting to reach you for a few minutes now, sir."

Out of the corner of his eye, Spaatz could see D’Amboise reaching for his communicator, but Spaatz ignored him as cold tendrils of fear were beginning to grip his heart, and he did his best to remain calm as he waited for Amarchih to react.

“Kanin, how much time do we have before that mass transitions back to real-space?” Amarchih finally asked.

“I calculate within the next five minutes, sir.”

Amarchih grimaced. Out of the corner of his eye, Spaatz could see Yirenkyi lean forward.

“Sir, this could just be a false alarm,” he started to suggest, but Amarchih quickly shook his head.

“Let’s hope so, Captain,” Amarchih replied. “But, given the circumstances, we can’t assume that. Let’s get some ships in the air. Comms! Contact Captain O'Reilly, Destroyer Squadron 41 and have her – “

"Sir, we're getting a signal!" Yirenkyi suddenly exclaimed. "It's -"

_"Slipspace rupture detected."_

Spaatz jerked towards the display, heart racing, as the image immediately zoomed in on a swirling blue vortex of an active slipspace portal that had suddenly opened up in the vast emptiness of space near Tenedos. Shooting out of the portal came -

Purple bulbous hulls. Electric blue energy shields. Plasma turrets primed and ready to fire.

The Covenant.

The entire combat information center watched in shocked silence as eight Covenant warships - ranging from three hundred meter long light cruisers to a single two kilometer long battlecruiser - dropped out of slipspace into real space and began forming up. In the silence, a lone voice rang out.

"Oh, crap," Kanin said in a loud whisper that echoed through the room. "That's a Covenant invasion force!"

At once, everyone seemingly began speaking at the same time.

"Alert! Multiple hostiles..."

"...eight Covenant warships..."

"Bridge confirming presence of Covenant..."

“…set emergency signals…”

"Heliopolis Station confirming data readout..."

"...bring our fighter screen around..."

“Tenedos Military Command has visual…”

All around Spaatz, chaos was beginning to rein as all personnel started to react to a scene no UNSC military member ever wanted to see: the sight of multiple Covenant warships armed and present just outside of a major human controlled world. Spaatz took a moment to allow himself a brief moment of panic, before taking a deep breath and letting it out slowly in order to center himself. Then, he began barking out orders.

“RED ALERT! Kanin, trigger a system wide alarm, WINTER CONTINGENCY is now in affect! All stations, we are now at DEFCON 1! Unlock all batteries and prepare for immediate combat! Navigation, standby to initiate Cole Protocol, Comms, send an immediate flash contact warning to High Command, inform them Actium is under attack and that we request immediate reinforcements! After that, alert all FLEETCOM Sectors and inform them that there is confirmed Covenant presence in Sector Twelve, and that it is currently unknown whether this is an isolated event, or the start of a major offensive; recommend they bring their alert readiness status to at least DEFCON level 2! Admiral Anarchih!”

Amarchih immediately snapped to attention. “Sir?”

“Sound general quarters and get your fleet in the air!”

“Aye, sir! Captain Yirenkyi, sound general quarters and get your ship in order! Comms, alert the rest of the battle group – have all ships separate from their moorings then rendezvous at rally point Baker Zulu one three – “

“- Officer of the Deck, on the 1MC, sound general quarters and set condition Zebra across the entire ship. Captain to Bridge: begin emergency preparations to separate the _Kilkis_ from Heliopolis Station – “

_“General quarters, general quarters, all hands man your battle stations. The path to general quarters is forward and up to starboard, down and aft to port. Set condition Zebra throughout the entire ship, this is not a drill, I say again, this is **not a drill!** ”_

All sorts of alarms were going off throughout the entire ship by now, making one hell of a racket, but Spaatz let the noise wash over him with practiced ease. Instead, he quickly stepped aside to allow Amarchih and Yirenkyi unimpeded access to the main console and grabbed a nearby data pad that wasn’t being used.

“Admiral D’Amboise!”

“Sir!”

D’Amboise immediately appeared by his side as Spaatz quickly called forth a general overview of Actium on his borrowed data pad.

“As of right now I’m officially transferring all assets of the Nineteenth Fleet over to your command,” Spaatz quickly reported. “Get their ships integrated into your battle line and tied into your command structure.”

“Sir.”

“We don’t know where the Covenant ships will hit first, or if there's more hostiles inbound, so we have to be ready for anything. Have all picket groups and combat air patrols pull back to within high Actium orbit so the ODPs can cover them, and have the rest of the fleet establish a defensive line about midway through the medium orbit.”

“Aye, sir!”

“Kanin! Contact General Iqbal, Orbital Defense Command, and alert him to our situation! Have all his carriers that are on QRA status move up to support Sixth Fleet's picket groups, while the rest of the ships are to be integrated into the Navy's defensive line! Have the Air Force re-equip all of their interplanetary cruise missiles with anti-ship warheads and open all silo doors! Oh, and I want all of their available fighter wings recalled from the surface – send half of them to cover the ODPs, the rest we’ll use them to supplement the fighter screens for the Navy's warships!”

“Aye, aye, sir!”

“And _somebody_ get a hold of Actium civilian air traffic control and get them to ground all civilian flights!” Spaatz bellowed out loud. “The only thing I want to see in the air right now are the steel gray hulls of my warships!”

Somebody answered with an affirmation, but Spaatz was too distracted to notice who. Instead, he was frantically racking his mind, trying to figure out what else he needed to do. Honestly, there wasn’t much: this late into the war, by now the vast majority of Navy personnel had participated in at least one battle or skirmish against the Covenant, so they generally knew what to expect. For the sailors that were fresh out of tech school or officer training, all they had to do was follow their brethren’s lead.

“Kanin, give me an update on the status of the Covenant,” Spaatz finally demanded.

“All eight hostiles are currently holding steady, sir, though long range sensors are currently picking up a lot of encrypted chatter between each ship; ONI's best guess is that the Covenant are preparing for combat.”

“Really? You don’t say?”

The sarcasm rolled off of Spaatz's tongue and out of his mouth before he could stop it. Balling the hand that wasn’t holding onto the data pad into a fist, Spaatz fought to bring himself under control.

“Kanin, give me a predicted trajectory for the Covenant invasion force. Send it to this data pad,” Spaatz commanded in an effort to distract himself.

There was a _ping_ from his pad as Kanin proceeded to do as he was ordered. Spaatz took one look at the projected track and swore. “Kanin, connect me to Vice Admiral Tethong, Tenedos Military Command!”

“Channel one, sir.”

Tethong's image immediately appeared on his screen, looking as calm and collected as ever, though Spaatz could just barely make out the signs of distress in his eyes.

" _Admiral Spaatz_ ," he greeted.

"Admiral, I trust you’ve been keeping abreast of the current situation?” without waiting for a response, Spaatz continued. “According to our sensors, if the Covenant continue to maintain their current speed, heading, and bearing, they’re going to pass within two hundred thousand kilometers of your position. The first thing the Covenant are going to do is try and secure their flanks which means they will more than likely alter course to hit you head on.”

_“My staff and I are very much aware of the situation, sir,”_ Tethong immediately reported. “ _At the moment, my fleet is prepped and ready to meet the attack. My concern, however, is if the Covenant were to attack with all their might, my fleet will be hard pressed to hold them back."_

Spaatz immediately called forth an ORBAT chart of all fleet assets currently assigned to Tethong's command, even though he already knew them by heart. Numbers wise, Tethong's force was roughly about the third of the size of Sixth Fleet, but whereas Sixth Fleet was backed up by battleships, orbital defense platforms, and Air Force fleet carriers, Tethong's strongest asset was a single _Marathon_ -class cruiser. Hardly enough to stand up against a single Covenant warship, much less eight of them.

“Have you evacuated all civilians from those mining facilities located in orbit around Tenedos?” Spaatz asked as he struggled to decide what the most optimal way to reinforce Tethong's position was going to be.

Tethong bobbed his head. _“Most of the heavy gas mining facilities are automated, so there weren’t too many civilians to worry about, sir. The few that there were, my forces have loaded into the UNSC_ Gladius, _as that ship doesn't stand a chance against the Covenant. As soon as we engage, she'll jump out of system.”_

“Understood,” Spaatz finally said as he reached a decision. “Admiral, I’m assembling a task force consisting of both Navy and Air Force ships in order to reinforce your position, but it’s going to take at least twenty minutes before they’re fully assembled. Do you think you can hold out that long?”

_“I make no promises, only that my forces will give them hell, sir,”_ Tethong emphatically replied.

“That's all I ask,” Spaatz grimly acknowledged. “Just make sure your forces set up a beacon before you get engaged so our reinforcements have something to lock onto otherwise they might accidently jump into the middle of the Covenant fleet.”

_“Copy that, sir.”_

“That is all, Admiral. Make ‘em holler!”

_“Yes, sir. In that case, this is Vice Admiral Pramid Tethong of the UNSC Navy, signing off.”_

Tethong's image abruptly disappeared, and without warning, Spaatz was struck with the horrifying feeling that was going to be the last time he saw his friend alive.

Spaatz took a deep breath and let it out slowly, quickly bringing his emotions under back control. Unfortunately, Tethong's life wasn’t the only one at stake here – he needed to focus.

“Admiral Spaatz.”

Spaatz jumped as D'Amboise unexpectedly grabbed his shoulder. Fortunately, no one but D’Amboise seemed to notice.

“Sir, the _Kilkis_ is in the last stages of separation from Heliopolis Station. Unless we intend to stay onboard sir, now’s our last chance to leave.”

Spaatz nodded and tossed his borrowed data pad back onto a nearby desk. “Understood. Let’s get you back to your HQ, Roger. Kanin, Admiral D’Amboise and I are headed back to the Heliopolis.”

“Affirmative. Sir, will you be returning to your own headquarters afterwards? If so, I can arrange for a shuttle.”

“Sir, under the circumstances, may I suggest you stay aboard the Heliopolis rather than risk a Pelican ride back to Lygos,” D’Amboise quickly interjected before Spaatz could reply. “Heliopolis' secondary CIC can easily be rearranged for your purposes.”

Spaatz nodded his head. “Very good, Admiral. Lead the way.”

“Sir. Álvarez, come in. This is Admiral D’Amboise. I’m headed back to the Heliopolis with Fleet Admiral Spaatz in tow. Activate the secondary CIC and get it ready for the Admiral's use, over.”

As he quickly followed in D’Amboise's footsteps, Spaatz could feel the deck beneath his feet start to rumble as the _Kilkis_ began to come to life.

Slowly but surely, the Ambracia System was gearing up for war.

**XXXXX**

**O’Neill Air Force Base, Actium  
May 6, 2545  
0804 (Four minutes after contact)**

**1st Lieutenant Link “Zelda” Kepler**

Zelda was bored.

He was laying on a cot, staring at the ceiling of the ready room, trying to figure out what he could do to occupy his time. He supposed he should have been working on his after-action report from yesterday, but honestly, that sounded worse than just lying there, counting the ceiling tiles. There was a game of poker taking place on the other side of the room that Zelda would have loved to join, except he had blown most of his money last night at the bar. And considering he owed just about everyone in the squadron money, no one was willing to spot him some cash. So, there he was, lying on his cot, twiddling his thumbs, waiting for something to happen.

This was why he hated QRA duty.

He sighed. Maybe he really should take a nap. Because really, what else could he do?

“You look busy as always.”

Zelda cracked open an eye to see Odessa looming over him, a wide grin on his face.

“What do you want,” Zelda grumbly demanded, too tired and bored to truly be interested in participating in the trash talking he and Odessa usually did.

He could see Odessa frown at his tone, but otherwise, didn’t seem too bothered.

“Don’t you have an after-action report to complete?” Odessa reminded him.

Zelda gave a negligent shrug.

“I’ll do it later,” he mumbled. “Too tired to think.”

“Well, that’s what you get for staying up half the night the day before our scheduled QRA day,” Odessa unsympathetically chided. “I would tell you let that be a lesson, but considering we both know that about the half the things I say go in one ear and out the other, I suppose I shouldn’t bother.”

Despite himself, Zelda cracked a smile. Odessa knew him way too well. Too bad he couldn’t teach Bellum.

“Anyways, I just came here to let you know there's been a slight change in the organization of our flight,” Odessa reported.

That caught Zelda's attention.

“What do you mean?” he demanded to know as he lifted his head.

“It's nothing serious, dude,” Odessa assured him. “Just a bit of a switcheroo. With Marshmallow gone, Betros is without a wingman so Bellum is joining Alpha Flight.”

“And what, leaving us with only three guys?”

“Nah. Because we're on QRA today, Command wanted us at full strength, so they pulled a guy in from Eagle Squadron. 2nd Lieutenant Krystian Sowosko, call sign ‘303.’”

“Fuck. We got a new guy!?” Zelda groaned, then immediately shot straight up, horrified, as a thought occurred to him. “Oh, fuck! Please don’t tell me he's going to be _my_ wingman. I don’t want to fucking deal with the new guy!”

Odessa chuckled in amusement. “Well, first off, he's only new in the sense that this will be his first time flying with us; he's not like Betros, fresh out of flight school, he's been a Broadsword pilot for over a year now. Secondly, no, you’re still stuck as my wingman. Or am I stuck with you?”

Odessa paused as if that was a question that needed to be seriously considered, before he shook his head and continued. “Either way, new guy is gonna be JV's problem.”

“Well, thank fuck for that,” Zelda groaned as he laid back down. “Is that all?”

Instead of reply, Zelda instead heard Odessa suddenly say, “Betros, what's up? We were just talking about you.”

“I was not talking shit about you!” Zelda reflexively denied, his eyes popping open, only to see both Betros and Odessa giving him a very odd look.

“What?” Betros asked, sounding confused.

“What?” Zelda echoed.

Betros stared at Zelda, then glanced at Odessa as if asking for an explanation, but Odessa didn’t seem to notice as he was too busy facepalming. “What?”

“You know what, don’t worry about it, kid,” Zelda replied as cheerfully as he could in an attempt to mask his blunder. “What do you want?”

Shooting him a suspicious look, Betros nevertheless seemed to decide to just go with it as he lifted up a data pad. “I’m putting in an order for breakfast. Bellum wants to know if you or Odessa want anything.”

“Where you ordering from?” Odessa asked.

“Tippy's.”

Zelda immediately let out a groan at that. “Goddammit, really?” he asked. “We always order from fucking Tippy’s. Seriously, there’s like, fifteen places that serve breakfast within a ten klick radius. Why the fuck do we always got to go to Tippy’s?”

He could see Betros rolling his eyes. “Well, where the hell do you want to order from then?”

Zelda considered the question. “I’m thinking –“

**_BRANK! BRAYNK! BRAYNK!_ **

_“SCRAMBLE, SCRAMBLE, SCRAMBLE. I SAY AGAIN. SCRAMBLE, SCRAMBLE, SCRAMBLE.”_

Zelda’s feet were on the ground and he was running for the exit before his brain could even fully register what was going on. He plowed through the door and ran towards the hangar which housed his Broadsword in a dead sprint with the rest of the squadron close behind.

Inside, the flight crew was already going about disconnecting fuel lines, recharging cables, and removing red tag items. Coming to a stop by his bird, Zelda grabbed his helmet and put it on before raising his arms as one of his mechanics quickly patted him down to make sure his vacuum suit was sealed and his vest was secured, before sprinting up the ladder and throwing himself into his cockpit. Hitting a button, Zelda strapped himself in as the cockpit canopy lowered shut. He plugged his oxygen tube into the plane as a loud _HISS_ filled the air as his cockpit sealed itself.

With everything secured, Zelda thumbed the ignition button. His bird, which had been sitting on standby mode, instantly came to life. Every single control panel in the cockpit lit up, and his HUD winked into existence.

“Alright guys, let's go, shake a leg!” Zelda muttered to himself as he drummed his fingers impatiently against his side-stick as the doors to the hangar began to roll open, and his ground crew hurriedly removed the wheel chocks from his landing gear. As soon as he received the all-clear signal, Zelda pushed down on the throttle, and his Broadsword began to roll out of the hangar towards the runways.

“O’Neill Control Tower, this is Omega-6,” Zelda said into his radio as soon as he was cleared of the hangar. “Requesting instructions for launch, over.”

_“Omega-6, Control Tower. Proceed along highlighted route to runway three.”_

An orange marked path suddenly appeared on Zelda’s HUD. “Copy that Control Tower, Omega-6 proceeding to runway three.”

Zelda began to taxi his Broadsword down the highlighted path. As he did, he glanced around. All around him, Broadswords were emerging from their hangars and falling in line behind him. He couldn’t help but allow a smile to grace his face. It was always a point of pride for him when he was the first one out of the hangar and into the air.

Zelda made the final turn onto runway three, keying his microphone as he did. “Control Tower, Omega-6. Requesting permission for takeoff, over?”

_“Omega-6, you’re cleared for takeoff. I say again. You are cleared for takeoff.”_

Zelda jammed down on the throttle.

His Broadsword began to rattle and shake, and the whine of his engines rapidly drowned out all other sounds as power surged through his fighter. Through his canopy, he could see the snowy landscape rolling by as he started down the runway, quickly picking up speed. Punching in his afterburners, he yanked back on the stick once he had achieved enough lift and his Broadsword began to climb and gained altitude. He thumbed a button and heard a mute _thunk_ as his landing gear fully retracted.

Maintaining his speed, Zelda continued to climb until he had reached about twelve thousand meters before leveling out. He was quickly joined by the rest of squadron.

_“Omega Flight, radio check, sound off in sequence,”_ Zelda heard Bellum order over the radio and for a moment he was confused before he abruptly remembered Bellum was now in charge.

_“Omega-2, standing by.”_ That was Betros.

_“Omega-3, standing by.”_

_“Omega-4, standing by.”_

_“Omega-5, standing by.”_ That was Odessa.

Zelda keyed in his mic. “Omega-6, standing by,” he announced, then released the talk button and leaned back as he waited for all twenty members of the squadron to finish sounding off.

_“This is Omega-Leader, all Omega Flight fighters standing by,”_ Bellum finally announced. _“All pilots, link up with your wing mates, then form up on me.”_

Zelda banked his Broadsword to the left so that he was just behind Odessa on his right. Glancing over his shoulder, he could see another two Broadswords falling in line behind them, probably JV and the new guy, 303.

“So,” Zelda cheerfully announced over SQUADCOM as the squadron fell into formation and noted the clear skies all around them. “Anyone want to tell me where the fire is? Don’t get me wrong, I love flying just as much as the next guy, it’s just I’ve got about fifteen thousand kilograms worth of ordnance that’s begging to be expended.”

_“Zelda, I’m getting briefed by Command right now, so shut the fuck up,”_ Bellum snapped.

“Alright, jeez, I was just asking,” Zelda muttered to himself as he busied himself checking his air radar to make sure he wasn’t about to jumped from behind. To his surprise, he noticed a large number of aircraft taking off from O’Neill Air Base behind them. The base was launching more than one fighter squadron? Why? There didn’t appear to be anything around.

Then his radio began buzzing, indicating he was getting a call on his private channel from Odessa.

_“Hey, look to the west,”_ Odessa said as soon as Zelda switched over. _“Do the Cunt Munchers have an exercise today? Looks like they’re mobilizing all their gunships.”_

Zelda looked over his right shoulder. They were currently flying by a Colonial Militia Air Force base and sure enough, the entire airfield was covered with what looked like every single air frame in their possession. Zooming in on his HUD, Zelda could see SkyHawks, Falcons, Sparrowhawks, and even a couple Vultures, all prepping for takeoff.

“Huh. That’s weird,” Zelda commented. “Hey, did you check behind us? Looks like Flanker and Tornado Squadrons are also getting launched. What the fuck is going on?”

Before Odessa could respond, Bellum’s voice cut through the channel.

_“Okay, listen up Omega,”_ she barked and to Zelda’s surprise, he could just barely pick up the hint of… was that fear in her voice? _“We got our orders.”_

_“Where we headed?”_ one of the other flight leaders asked before Zelda could.

_“Low orbit. We’re rendezvous with the_ _UNSC_ Trenchard.”

“Low orbit?” Zelda blurted out in astonishment before he could stop himself. “Why would we…” He trailed off as realization struck him. Low orbit, the Air Force trying to get every single airframe off the ground? There could only be one possible explanation. “Oh.”

_“Yeah, ‘oh,’”_ Bellum said and this time, there was no mistaking the tension in her voice. _“Ladies and gentlemen, I just received word that WINTER CONTINGENCY has been declared throughout the entire system.”_

_“The Covenant are here.”_

**XXXXX**

**Camp Hoxha, Actium  
May 6, 2545  
0807 (Seven minutes after contact)**

**Private Marcus Olsen**

“And this here is going to be your dorm,” Dresden cheerfully announced.

Marcus walked into the room and took a look around. It was surprisingly comfortable looking room. His barracks in both basic and AIT had reminded him of a prison cell: rather Spartan looking, with a lot of cinderblocks and concrete. All it had been missing were the bars on the windows. This room, however, reminded him a lot of the college dorms he had seen back when he was still visiting colleges. The walls were covered in drywall, all the furniture was made out of wood, carpet on the ground. There were even blinds on the windows. All in all, a rather pleasant looking place.

Of course, to be fair, they could have given Marcus a sleeping bag and a pup tent and placed him in the middle of an open field and he would have been happy. At this point, Marcus was just glad to finally be allowed to settle in.

When Dresden had brought him to this building two hours ago, Marcus had thought his dorm room was the first place they were going to go. As it turned out, he still had a lot of processing to go through. For starters, he had to first visit the company headquarters where another bored looking soldier had to double check his transfer orders and personal information. Then Marcus had to fill out a bunch of paperwork. Then he had to sit through some sort of briefing and orientation. Then fill out more paperwork. He would have thought he would have to do all that stuff down at battalion reception before he got assigned to a unit but apparently not.

After he was done with his briefing and orientation, Marcus had to go down to the base HQ in order to receive his CAC, or common access card, because apparently without one, he wouldn’t be able to access any of the buildings or buy any food at the mess hall. Why the Army just didn’t use a hand or retinal scanners, Marcus had no idea.

After he had received his CAC, Marcus then had to go to the armory, where he was issued all of his armor, his equipment, and then a whole bunch of other stuff, half of which he didn’t even know what it was for. Then, after that, Marcus had to go back to company supply in order to receive some bed linens, some toiletries, and some other crap.

Finally, after all that, Marcus was brought to his dorm room where he was finally able to put his stuff down. All he wanted to do at this point was take a nap but unfortunately, Dresden still needed to give him a tour of the base after which, they would need to head down to the motor pool where Marcus would meet the rest of his platoon. Fuck.

“You’ll be sharing the room with Private First Class William Orlović, whom I think you met at battalion reception?” Dresden was saying.

Marcus absentmindedly nodded his head. The name sounded familiar; Marcus was pretty sure he was the guy who had checked him in hours ago.

“Well, that’s about it.” Marcus noticed Dresden glancing at his watch. “I know I need to give you a tour of the base, but if you don’t mind, I think we should go down to the mess hall. I don’t know about you, but I’m getting kind of hungry.”

Marcus brightened at those words. He hadn’t had a chance to eat or drink anything since he landed at the Novak Intercontinental Airport on the outskirts of the city of Byzas some three hours ago, and with all the running around he’d been doing, he was ready for a hot breakfast.

“Go ahead and dump your stuff on your bed,” Dresden suggested as he walked for the door. “You’ll have time to – “

“wwwweeeeeeerrrrrrrrnnnnNNNNN **NNNNNNNN** **NNNNNNN** **NNNNNNNNNN** **NNNNNN** **!!!!** ”

“What the hell is that?” Marcus asked, startled, as the bone chilling shriek of an alarm filled the air. He glanced over at Dresden, only to see a look of concern pass over his face.

“That’s the base alarm. But I have no idea why they’re sounding it right now; I didn’t see any notices about them testing it today,” Dresden explained as he walked over to the window and lifted the blinds. “What the hell?”

Marcus joined him by the window. The window overlooked one of the base entrances, allowing Marcus to see the MPs at the gate were freaking out. The ones on duty were hastily shutting the gate and raising traffic barriers, and to Marcus' alarm, looked like they were loading their machine guns. As he watched, more guards came pouring out of a nearby building, many of whom were still throwing on their gear and loading their guns.

"What's going on?" Marcus nervously asked. "Are we under attack?" he jokingly suggested. He glanced over at Dresden, expecting him to at least crack a smile at Marcus' naivety, however his face was drawn and grim.

"Get your armor on," he said instead.

"What?"

"Get your armor on," Dresden repeated as he headed for the door. "I got to get mine from my room, but you stay here until I get back!"

"Wha..? Sir, what the fuck is going on!?" Marcus blurted out, Dresden's attitude not doing a thing to calm him down.

"Stop asking questions and get your armor on!" Dresden snapped and startled, Marcus moved to obey.

As he slid on his groin protection, one last desperate thought entered his mind. "Hey Sarge!"

Dresden poked his head through the door.

"Is this some sort of new guy hazing ritual?" Marcus desperately asked, hoping upon hope that was all this was.

The expression on Dresden's face instantly dashed that hope.

"I don't think it is," was all he said before disappearing down the hall.

Marcus stood there, gapping at the spot where Dresden had been standing, before the sound of dozens of people running up the stairs caused him to snap out of it and he hurried began throwing on the rest of his gear. As he frantically worked, one thought kept bouncing around inside his mind:

'Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck.'

**XXXXX**

**Graham Quarry, Actium  
May 6, 2545  
0810 (Ten minutes after contact)**

**Sergeant Tariq Helmand**

"Okay, ease her forward a bit! That's it, come on. And... STOP!"

With a slight groaning of metal, the tank came to an abrupt halt as Koroma slammed on the brakes.

"Put her in park and then get your ass out here Rook," Tariq ordered as he picked up his wrench. It had taken far longer than it should had, but his tank's track was finally fixed and back in alignment. All he had to do now was tighten the bolt and pray this stupid FNG didn't throw the track again.

"You hold it in place and I'll tighten," Tariq commanded as Koroma joined him on the ground next to the track. "You ready?"

"Yes," Koroma announced as he slipped his wrench over the other end of the bolt and braced himself.

Tariq quickly tightened the bolt as much he possibly could, before giving the track a good whack to make sure there wasn't too much slack. Everything seemed alright so Tariq turned to Koroma and toss him his wrench.

"We're all set," he declared. "Get that shit cleaned up and let's get ready to move out. I’ll let the LT know.”

Koroma nodded, then scampered away to put the tools away. While he did that, Tariq reached down for the talk button on his radio and keyed it, but jerked his head away as he was assaulted with a bunch of feedback. He turned around.

Walking towards him was Buckley, radio in hand, and a grim look on his face. Briefly wondering what that was all about, Tariq decided it wasn’t his problem and instead called out, “LT! Track is fixed. Guess we can get this show back on the road.”

“Forget about it, Sergeant,” Buckley replied, sounding shaken, much to Tariq's surprise. “As of five minutes ago, this entire exercise was terminated.”

Tariq stared at him. “Sir?”

Buckley shook his head and gestured at him and Koroma, who had abruptly appeared from behind the tank. “Captain Lightfoot will explain. I need you and Specialist Koroma to drop everything and come with me right now. Let's go.”

Feeling a bit mystified and more than a bit alarmed, Tariq exchanged a puzzled look with Koroma before shrugging his shoulders and began trudging through the snow behind him.

Buckley led them to an area where a large crowd of soldiers had begun to congregate. Looking around, Tariq could tell the crowd was made up of every single tanker in the company, as well as their mechanized infantry support.

“Do you know what the fuck is going on?”

Tariq barely looked up at the sound of Chenko's voice.

“No idea,” he said, slowly shaking his head as Chenko stopped right beside him. “LT knows but, uh, he said Lightfoot’s gonna explain.”

“Guess we'll find out in a minute,” Chenko reported, jerking his head towards the M231 “Lynx” APC coming their way.

The Lynx rolled towards them, but before it could even come to a complete stop, two figures were already dismounting: Captain Lightfoot and First Sergeant Noble, the company commander and sergeant, respectively.

“Group! Attention!” Noble immediately snapped as she jogged towards the assembled force. “Eyes and ears on the CO!”

“Listen up!” Lightfoot barked, his voice echoing in the silence. “This field exercise has been officially terminated; we are no longer in training mode! As of 0800 hours local time, Fleet Admiral Lukas Spaatz – supreme commander of all UNSC forces in the Ambracia System – has invoked the WINTER CONTINGENCY protocol. Covenant presence in Ambracia _has_ been confirmed.”

At first, Tariq didn’t get it. Lightfoot’s voice was so matter-of-fact, like he was doing nothing more than giving a report on the weather, his words didn’t initially register in Tariq's brain. He turned to Chenko in confusion, only to see a look of absolute horror on his face. And then that was when Tariq consciously realized what Lightfoot had just said.

“Oh, _shit!”_ he hissed, barely hearing himself speak, his voice lost in the murmuring of conversation that had broken out at the Captain's word.

“Oh fuck, oh fuck! Tell me this ain't happening, dude!” Chenko was saying beside him.

All Tariq could do was shrug. Impulsively, he glanced over his shoulder and stole a look at this crew's face just to see how they were handling it: whereas Buckley had gone ashen and looked almost ready to pass out, Koroma looked… infuriated? Interesting reaction.

“QUIET IN THE RANKS!” Noble’s bellow easily cut through the chatter, silencing all soldiers in assembly. Lightfoot gave her a single nod of thanks before stepping forward once more.

“We don’t have a lot of information at the moment; we still don’t know the depth of the Covenant assault, composition, or their intentions, but as of right now, Brigade is assuming worst case scenario. For those of you who are veterans, you know what that entails. For those of you who Actium is your first duty station, well…” Lightfoot gave a helpless shrug. “Let's just say you’re gonna see your first Covenant warrior a lot sooner than expected.”

Tariq vigorously shook his head, as if he denied it hard enough, it wouldn’t be true. Unfortunately and unsurprisingly, it didn’t work.

“Now, I know what you are all thinking: we aren’t ready for this. And I’m not gonna lie, you're probably right,” Lightfoot admitted. “Of the entire 53rd Armored Division, we are the only brigade that can be considered a functioning unit, and even then, we were still two weeks away from full integration of all replacements.”

“But you know what? It doesn’t matter! What matters is that the Covenant are here, in the system, right here, right now! They’re here to kill you, me, the soldier standing right beside you, your family, you friends, and every single goddamn human that had the misfortune to decide to call Actium their home. And we can’t let that happen.”

“The Covenant have chose here and now to test our will,” Lightfoot continued. “And it is our job to prove to them that our division motto isn’t just a motto, IT'S A WAY OF LIFE!”

“IRON WILL!” he roared in conclusion.

It wasn’t like the hovids. The men didn’t immediately break out into cheers or anything like. Fact of the matter was, no one even looked particularly motivated by the speech they had just heard – Tariq suspected people, the veterans especially, were just too cynical at this point to be motivated by pretty words.

And yet, Tariq also knew that a lot of the men and women standing here hadn’t even been _born_ when the war against the Covenant had began. But they, just like everyone else, all knew at least one person who had been lost to the Covenant's rampage whether it be a friend, a family member, or even a friend of a friend. They, just like everyone else, had grown up hearing the newsreels and the rumors. The stories of what the Covenant did to the humans they came across, no matter who or what they were. Man, woman, or child, soldier or civilian, it didn’t matter. And Tariq could see it in the eyes of all assembled here – from the most hardened of veterans to the greenest slick sleeve - the determination to prevent Actium from suffering from the same fate that had already befallen countless worlds and colonies.

The Covenant could not have this world. **Would not** have this world.

Not while the men and women of 4th Battalion, 337th Armored Regiment was alive to fight for it.

Tariq's thoughts were interrupted by the sound of Noble clearing her throat.

“KILO COMPANY!” she screamed. “MOUNT UP!”

* * *

General Notes

**DEFCON: DEF** ense readiness **CON** dition. This is a system used by the U.S. military to determine the current state of alertness of individual units. There are five levels with associated colors: blue (level 5,) green (level 4,) yellow (level 3,) red (level 2,) and white (level 1.) Unlike what is sometimes shown in the media, level 5 is actually the lowest state of readiness (essentially meaning the U.S. is at peace,) whereas level 1 is the highest (basically only declared in the event of a nuclear war breaking out.)

Since the creation of the system in 1960, DEFCON 1 has never been declared.

**Condition Zebra:** is a U.S. Navy and Coast Guard status that dictates a ship's readiness for damage control. There are three levels of “material conditions" (as it's officially called): X-RAY, YOKE, and ZEBRA. X-ray is the lowest state of readiness whereas Zebra is the highest. Under condition Zebra, essentially all watertight doors and hatches are sealed and shut, greatly hindering the moment of sailors, but also controlling the rate of flooding or the spreading of a fire (or decompression in the case of a spaceship) in the event of an emergency.

**ORBAT: OR** der of **BAT** tle. A chart showing the arrangement of units or ships participating in a specific battle

**M231 “Lynx" APC"** this is not a canon vehicle. As the name implies, it is intended to be a tracked armored personnel carrier. While armored about as well as an IFV, it is only lightly armed, coming equipped with sixteen smoke grenade dischargers and either a remote controlled heavy machine gun or automatic grenade launcher. However, the Lynx is capable of transporting up to eleven passengers, as well as two crew members.

**Slick Sleeve:** a U.S. Army specific (at least in this context; the USAF also uses this term but the specific definition is slightly different) insult referring to service members who have never been deployed. It's analogous to the way “Boot" is used in the USMC.


	3. First Blood

**UNSC _Katara Pass_ (CA-747), Battle Group Tenedos**   
**High Tenedos Orbit, Ambracia System**   
**May 6, 2545**   
**0811**

**Vice Admiral Pramod Tethong**

If there was one thing Vice Admiral Pramod Tethong had learned over the course of his forty-five years of service, it was that battles were completely unpredictable. The most advance and well-thought-out plan could be produced by the greatest of minds and tacticians before the battle was joined and the fighting commenced, yet completely fall apart the _second_ contact with the enemy was initiated. There was no way around it. It was one thing the UNSC Navy tried desperately to instill in all of their line officers: how to adapt and improvise the moment everything went wrong.

And part of that involved learning how to filter through all the noise.

“Sir,” he heard someone try to say to him, “report from the _Martel_ : CIC has lost all contact with the bridge, and she’s taken a direct hit to her primary reactor – all engines and maneuvering thrusters are offline, her XO is reporting – “

“Warning: target 1-Bravo is advancing from above on bearing three niner – “

“ – divert Archer pods sixteen through twenty-two onto new target and have – “

“ – TAO, lock gun one onto 1-Alpha – “

“Helm, up thirteen degree rudder, take us to bearing one three seven, all engines ahead, full. Put us on a thirty degree approach to 1-Alpha's forward, portside bow, to minimize the time we'll be exposed to those plasma cannons – “

“ – all batteries, fire!”

“Missiles away!” “Rounds away.”

“ – splash, report streaming in – “

“ – get eyes on her, don’t let her out of your sight – “

“ – _Titania_ under heavy fire, she’s requesting immediate fire sup- “

“ – Captain, registering minimal effect on target!”

“Helm, hard right rudder, come about a hundred and eighty degrees, line us up for another run on 1-Alpha; TAO, standby to reengage target with main battery – “

“ – Main Batt, lock gun two onto 1-Alpha and standby – “

“Admiral, sir!”

Tethong jerked as he managed to pick out the voice of his aide-de-camp and planetary manager of Tenedos - smart A.I. Ryukyu – out of the chatter of the CIC crew of the UNSC _Katara Pass_.

“Sir, the UNSC _Martel_ is officially dead in the water – I’m detecting multiple breaches across her hull and she appears to be venting atmosphere,” Ryukyu was saying. “The UNSC _Titania_ is taking heavy fire from target 2-Bravo and requesting immediate support and… emergency transmission from the UNSC _Breanne’s Creek!_ She’s reporting a power loss to her primary fusion reactor and attempting to switch over to secondary systems, however she’s been reduced to two-thirds speeds!”

“Tap into the _Martel’s_ internal intercom system and order her crew to abandon ship,” Tethong immediately barked, doing his best to remain focused. “Alert UNSC _18 Scorpii_ and order to her to deploy her search and rescue Pelicans, recover whatever survivors they can, then fall back to Tenedos’ orbit to await recovery from Actium. Meanwhile, have the _Oberon_ and _Goodfellow_ come about and initiate an attack run on 2-Bravo, see if they can’t – “

“VAMPIRE VAMPIRE VAMPIRE!” a nearby technician abruptly roared, drowning out whatever else Tethong had to say. “Incoming plasma torpedoes! I count two – now three! - bearing two six five!”

“Launch portside chaff, Helm, left full rudder, all ahead, flank!” Captain Bakshi yelled back.

Tethong was pressed hard against his restraint as the ship tilted hard to port before the inertia dampeners kicked in and the gravity righted itself. Glancing at a nearby screen, he frantically watched as three dots sped towards the ship, only to break away as _Katara Pass_ launched an entire volley of decoys directly in their path. The three dots blinked out, one by one, and even though he couldn’t see because of a lack of windows in the CIC, Tethong could just imagine the fiery explosions that momentarily lit up the dark void of space as the magnetic fields holding the torpedoes dissolved, violently releasing their payloads on the surrounding area.

“Helm, shift your rudder get us back on course,” Bakshi commanded as soon as the threat had temporarily subsided. “TAO, give me a sitrep on 1-Alpha – “

“ – fluctuations in the forward shields but – “

“ – main batteries reporting negative – “

“ – hard to maintain a lock because the target keeps moving – “

“Ryukyu, have the _Oberon_ and _Goodfellow_ commence an attack run on 2-Bravo and see if they can’t draw the target's fire away from _Titania_ ,” Tethong continued as if he had never been interrupted but before he could even finish, Ryukyu was already shaking his head.

“Sir, _Oberon_ is reporting she’s locked in combat with 1-Bravo and is unable to divert any fire away least – “

“Fine! Then have _Breanne’s Creek_ and _Goodfellow_ fall back to support _Titania_ , then divert _18 Scorpii_ over to support _Oberon_ with 1-Bravo!” Tethong ordered instead.

“Sir, doing so will leave the _Katara_ without any support against 1-Alpha – “

“Don’t argue with me, Ryukyu, not now!” Tethong immediately snapped. “ _Katara_ is strong enough to stand alone against that heavy destroyer for a few minutes meanwhile, we need to start doing some serious damage to those two corvettes otherwise this plan isn’t going to work! I need more ships! What’s the status of DS227!?”

“Captain Yoder is reporting his squadron is roughly six minutes away before they’re in position!”

“Inform him that he’s got three minutes to get into position; I don’t care how he does it – redline his reactors if he has to – because otherwise, there won’t be much of a fleet left for him to support!”

**_KABOOM!_ **

Tethong jumped as the entire ship gave a wild jerk, the sound of an explosion immediately echoing through the passageways.

“Damage report!” Bakshi roared in the wake of all the alarms that seemed to have just gained in pitch.

“Sounding and Security reporting in now, ma'am! We've got a hull breach on seventh deck, as well as compartments -”

“ – multiple casualties reported in the forward bow, all available corpsmen report for triage – “

“Captain, TAO: Weapons is reporting the entire point defense network is down in the dorsal bow section, as well as power to Archer turrets nine through thirteen, twenty and - “

“Seal all bulkhead doors leading to the breach and I want all available DC teams to the dorsal bow section to get our weapons back online, ASAP! And have all available gunner’s mates on standby to man the Archer turrets in the event power cannot be restore; we need those AShMs! Helm, angle our bow up fifteen degrees so 1-Alpha can’t hit that section again with direct fire!”

“Captain Bakshi!” Tethong yelled, catching the attention of the captain of his flagship. “Sitrep on the Covenant? Have we gotten their attention? Are we on course with the plan?”

“Oh, we've definitely got their attention, sir! I don’t think they’ve noticed our destroyers moving into position!” Bakshi yelled back. “But we're taking a lot of fire, sir; I don’t know how much longer we can keep this up!”

“Can your ship last another three minutes?”

“That depends on _them_ , sir!”

“Them" being the Covenant, of course. Tethong dragged his eyes away from Bakshi’s hologram and towards a tactical display that was currently showing the status of the Covenant fleet. Upon detection of his fleet, three ships – a single _CPV_ -class heavy destroyer as well as two _SDV_ -class heavy corvettes – had detached themselves from the main invasion force and come about to face them. While on paper, three Covenant ships versus his eleven didn’t sound like much, the truth of the matter was, Tethong only had _one_ ship capable of dealing heavy damage to the enemy.

Fortunately, Tethong had a plan that would _hopefully_ even the odds somewhat. Unfortunately the plan couldn’t be executed until all the elements were in place. Which meant for the men and women of the UNSC _Katara Pass_ and her escorts, their primary objective at the moment was just to survive. However, while a _Marathon_ -class heavy cruiser might have been able to survive a single round against a Covenant destroyer, the same couldn’t be said about their companions.

“VAMPIRE VAMPIRE VAMPIRE! I got four incoming plasma torpedoes bearing one seven seven! Er… correction, two are heading towards us, the other two are headed for the _18 Scorpii_!”

Tethong’s attention was immediately dragged back to the battle at hand, and he felt his eyes widen at the sight of two dots rapidly making their way towards the _Katara Pass_ , while another two were headed straight for the _18 Scorpii_.

Bakshi spat out a curse which he didn’t pick up before yelling, “Helm, full stop, launch all decoys forward of the bow then down full rudder, all engines ahead, flank! Get us out into more open space so we can evade without risk of collision!”

“Captain, OOD: be advised that maneuver will put us back in the line of fire of 1-Alpha’s plasma cannons,” a nearby officer shouted in warning from his station. “Recommend we divert to heading three seven one instead!”

“Negative, I rather get hit by plasma fire than risk getting hit by those torpedoes!” Bakshi retorted, even as the _Katara Pass_ ignited her dorsal maneuver thrusters, allowing the ship to almost instantly tilt in a “downward” direction. “Helmsman, keep her so!”

Almost immediately, the bulkhead walls began to shake as explosions reverberated throughout the entire ship as the _Katara Pass_ was raked by plasma cannon fire. Seconds later, damage reports began streaming in to the CIC, but Tethong ignored them as he focused on the rapidly approaching dots. The torpedoes were five hundred megameters away and closing in fast. Four fifty.

Loud _thunk_ noises filled the air as _Katara’s_ gunners frantically launched a series of decoys in the path of the torpedoes. At five thousand kilometers away from the ship, they began emitting a high magnetic signature, mimicking that of the ship itself, in the hopes of drawing the torpedoes away from their original target.

“TAO, status on those torpedoes!?”

“Decoys away, ma’am! Torpedoes still on course!”

“Helm, evasive maneuvers, hard left rudder! Come hard over!”

“’Hard left rudder, come hard over.’ Aye, Cap – “

“Wait - ! One torpedo has gone for the decoys, but second torpedo still on course! Hundred thousand kilometers and closing fast!”

“Helm, belay last order! Meet her, meet her! Steady on course!”

“’Steady on course, aye – “

“Prep ventral side emergency thrusters to be fired on my mark, ALL HANDS BRACE FOR IMPACT VENTRAL SIDE!”

Tethong immediately threw himself into a crash position, even as he frantically tracked the movement of that single remaining dot. Fifty thousand kilometers.

Twenty-five.

Licking his lips in nervousness, Tethong couldn’t help but glance at Bakshi as, instead of taking evasive actions like he thought she would, she continued to hold course. He wanted to say something, shout an order or something that would bring her to her senses, but at the same time, he knew he had to trust she knew what she was doing, so he held his words. Instead, he glanced back at his tactical display and at the single approaching dot.

Ten thousand.

Five thousand.

_One thousand!_

Just when Tethong was beginning to think Bakshi actually intended to allow the torpedo to hit their ship head-on, she abruptly screamed out, _“MARK!”_

**_BANG!_ **

Without warning, the nearly 91000 metric ton ship was thrown “up” nearly five hundred meters away from their original position as the emergency thrusters were ignited, moving the ship both out of the path of the incoming torpedo, as well as the line of fire for the majority of 1-Alpha’s plasma cannons.

“All batteries, resume fire on 1-Alpha!” Bakshi barked as the plasma torpedo detonated harmlessly some hundred thousand kilometers off the _Katara’s_ aft stern. “Damage report!”

Ignoring the reports that immediately came streaming in, Tethong instead turned to Ryukyu. “Ryukyu, give me a sitrep on the rest of the fleet!”

“Reports coming in now, sir!” Ryukyu announced. “ _Titania_ is reporting over eighty percent of her hull armor is gone, her main battery has been disabled, and she had a fire in her main armory which means she's down to twenty percent of her ordnance remaining… I think she’s out of the fight, sir. _Oberon_ took a direct hit from a torpedo amidship, but the breach has been secured. Commander Haakon states he’s still able to fight, however he is reporting over half of his crew’s complement has been rendered casualties, and thus won’t be able to fight at full efficiency. As for the _18 Scorpii_ … sir, I’ve lost all contact with her. Nor am I able to locate her transponder signal anywhere, sir.”

“Pull up an image of her last known location on my screen!” Tethong barked, and then immediately grimaced when Ryukyu proceeded to do so.

Floating in the middle of space - untouched by the fighting taking place around and nearby - was a rapidly expanding cloud of debris. Large chucks of metal anywhere between fifty to a hundred meters in length were speedily traveling away from hypocenter of the explosion that had sent them flying in the first place. To an outsider, the cloud might have appeared to be nothing more than a giant pile of scrap. To Tethong, however, he knew the sight of a destroyed _Stalwart_ -class light frigate when he saw one.

“Sir, I’m picking up a large amount of radiation consistent with discharge from an OKB Karman 56K deuterium fusion reactor,” Ryukyu grimly reported.

“One or both of those plasma torpedoes 1-Alpha sent in their direction must have slipped through their defenses,” Tethong muttered to himself, feeling rather numb. “Must have taken a direct hit to one of their reactors, caused a catastrophic meltdown. Must have gone up before any of the crew could even react, much less think of trying to escape. All hands lost. Dammit all.”

Tethong couldn’t help but close his eyes and take a deep breath. It was never easy - even for someone who had seen as much combat against the Covenant as he had – to so suddenly and abruptly lose a ship like that. And for the entire crew to have been killed without as much as a chance to escape…? That was possibly a sailor’s worst nightmare.

Letting out another loud sigh, Tethong immediately shook his head, trying to get back into the battle. As much as he would like to take a moment to break down and grieve, he knew he couldn’t. Not while he had at least three more ships locked in combat with another four maneuvering into optimal position to launch their own attack. Not while he himself was in mortal peril.

“Order the _Titania_ and _Oberon_ to fall back to Tenedos, they’re no good out here any longer. Give me a status update on DS227!” He couldn’t avoid how hoarse his voice sounded, but he did his best to keep it as hard as he could.

“Captain Yoder is reporting his squadron is now in position on the underside of Tenedos' rings- “

“Execute phase two!” he instantly roared. “Signal the fleet: all ships, fall back and prepare for phase three! Captain Bakshi: phase two!”

“Aye, sir!” Bakshi yelled back. “Helm, all engines reverse, flank! TAO, all weapon mounts local control! We're executing a fighting retreat people - let's move!”

The entire ship seemed to come alive once more as the _Katara's_ crew exploded into action. All her weapon systems abruptly flared to life, sending copious amounts of fire in the Covenant's direction. Meanwhile, outside, shutters slid close over her two massive, rear mounted engines while simultaneously, all forward mounted rockets ignited, propelling the ship straight back, helped in part by the recoil of her two MACs firing in rapid succession.

Quickly switching camera views, Tethong hurriedly accessed an external cam that was pointed in the Covenant's direction, to see how they were reacting. At first, the Covenant seemed to be slightly taken aback by the sudden volume of fire being sent in their direction, as well as the unexpected retreat of his forces, but it didn’t take long for them to recover. Like a predator that suddenly spotted their prey, all three Covenant ships ignited their thrusters to give pursuit. Just as he had predicted they would…

Rapidly switching screens, Tethong called forth a tactical display of the entire battlefield, to see where his remaining ships were falling back to: at the moment, they were in full reverse, essentially falling “down" back towards Tenedos. To an untrained eye, the retreat seemed uncoordinated, with all of his remaining ships taking their own paths back towards the planet. However in reality, their retreat path was specifically designed to allow them to pass within a hundred thousand kilometers of the top of Tenedos's rings.

Similar in appearance to the more famous rings of the planet Saturn located in the Sol System, Tenedos' rings were massive, extending out nearly 50000 kilometers from Tenedos' equator to the outer edge of the ring itself. Like most planetary rings, the thickness of the ring varied from anywhere between ten meters to two kilometers thick – and it was there, in the thickest part of the ring, where the four _Halberd_ -class destroyers of Destroyer Squadron 227 were lying in wait.

“DS227, what's your status?” Tethong distractedly barked out.

 _“We're in position and ready to engage, sir!”_ the voice of the squadron commander, Captain Yoder, replied.

“Copy. Standby…”

Tethong found himself holding his breath as the Covenant drew closer and closer to the kill zone. The _Katara_ shook as she was raked by plasma fire, but Tethong took that as a good sign as that meant his bait force still had the Covenant's attention.

Now. “All destroyers: fire. **FIRE!”**

Tethong immediately switched back to the external cameras just in time to see the shields on all three Covenant ships light up as the first MAC rounds came screaming in. Even though their shields managed to absorb most of the blow, all three ships were sent tumbling as they were knocked off course by the initial impact, which ironically allowed them to survive the next volley as about half the MAC rounds missed by a few dozen meters or so. Even then, the Covenant didn’t have enough time to react as DS227 managed to fire off a third volley.

“Give me a status of the Covenant!” Tethong demanded as the UNSC destroyers followed up their initial attack with a salvo of Archer missiles.

“Sensors indicate good effect on target, sir! I’m reading fluctuations in the shields of all three hostiles!” he heard Ryukyu report. “If my calculations are correct, one final volley should be enough to collapse their shields. Standby…”

Tethong found himself leaning closer to his screen, as if that would somehow magically allow him to see better as the Archer missiles streaked towards the Covenant ships. Automatically, pulse laser turrets located on the ventral side hulls of the ships came to life, spewing purple beams of light in the direction of the incoming, in an attempt to destroy them before they could hit. Bright orange explosions began lighting up the black blanket of space as scores of missiles were intercepted and destroyed thousands of meters away from their targets, but it hardly mattered as dozens still managed to make it through. Then –

The Covenant shields lit up once more as they were bombarded by all manner of explosions. Obviously sound didn’t travel through space, but Tethong found it hardly mattered as his brain began subconsciously providing the noise for him.

**_BOOM. BOOM… KABOOM!!!_ **

Tethong blinked in surprise as a blue-orange explosion erupted from the underside of one of the Covenant ships! The damage was hardly worth writing home about, but the fact a missile managed to strike directly against the hull of the Covenant could only mean one thing –

“Target 1-Alpha's shields are down!” Ryukyu triumphantly declared.

“Battle Group Tenedos: ATTACK!” Tethong immediately bellowed.

“You heard the Admiral!” Bakshi roared. “Helm, all engines ahead, flank! TAO, lock on all weapons onto target 1-Alpha: main batt, secondary batt, and all point defense turrets - fire everything!”

“’All engines ahead, flank,’ aye – “

“ – all batteries, kill track 1-Alpha – “

“ – commence firing!”

Tethong watched with not a small amount of satisfaction as the three remaining, functioning ships of his command’s battle group surged forward, unloading on the enemy ships. The bow and ventral sections of the Covenant's hulls were awash with explosions, however the fight was far from over. Despite being shieldless and now vulnerable to human naval weapons, Covenant ships were still _extremely_ difficult vehicles to destroy. Plus, while their shields were down, the same couldn’t be said about their weapons.

“VAMPIRE, VAMPIRE, VAMPIRE! 1-Alpha has just fired six plasma torpedoes split evenly between us, _Breanne_ , and _Goodfellow!_ Incoming plasma torpedoes bearing six one three!”

“Helm, hard right rudder, all engines – “

“ – deploying countermeasures – “

The CIC crew continued to yell out orders but in the midst of all the chaos, Tethong managed to hear someone saying, “ –rings, Admiral, sir!”

“What?” He demanded. That had sounded like Ryukyu so he took a stab in the dark and yelled, “Say again your last Ryukyu?”

“I said targets 1 and 2-Bravo are breaking contact and headed for Tenedos' rings, sir! They also appears to be scrambling fighters!”

Realization immediately struck him.

“They're going for DS227!” he hollered, grabbing his radio. “In the confines of that ring, those fighters are going to rip my destroyers apart! _Katara Pass_ to UNSC _Sean Connery_ : be advised, you’ve got incoming, including multiple bandits!”

 _“Copy,_ Katara _, we're tracking them! UNSCs_ Dalton _and_ Roger Moore _moving to intercept, but we're going to need some fighter support if we want to hold them back!”_

“Understood. We're deploying Longswords now. But the fleet is still going to need your assistance with 1-Alpha.”

 _“If we can get those Longswords,_ Katara _, then the_ Connery _and_ Pierce _will be able to continue to assist with 1-Alpha! Otherwise – “_

“RADIATION FLARE!” a nearby technician suddenly screamed. “I’m picking up over two thousand röntgens of it from 1-Alpha and climbing fast!”

A cold wave of terror immediately shot down Tethong’s spine at those words.

“Destroyer is about fire a plasma lance!!!” Tethong started to scream. “All ships - ”

Before Tethong could even hope to finish his sentence, there was a flash of light from the external cameras and everyone looked up in time to see a solid beam of blue-white light smash right into the front of the UNSC _Breanne's Creek_ , and out the other side, coring the frigate from bow to stern. Before her crew could even begin to deal with such catastrophic damage, two plasma torpedoes slammed into her amidships, portside. The explosion ripped through the vessel, literally cutting it in half.

Tethong’s breath was caught in his throat as he watched escape pods begin ejecting from the remains of the _Paris_ -class heavy frigate at a frantic pace. He coughed and managed to rasp out, “Ryukyu, how are these fucks finding enough power to fire not only their plasma beams and torpedoes, but also their plasma cannons!?”

He gestured at his tactical display where his last remaining functioning frigate, _Goodfellow_ , was currently being raked from bow to stern with plasma fire.

“Without any shields to worry about, they must have diverted all power to weapons! They also must have cut their engines!” Ryukyu suggested, before cocking his head as if hearing something no one else could. “Sir, message from Captain Yoder: his squadron has been engaged by both Covenant corvettes and fighters.”

“Those corvettes are going to tear those destroyers apart. We need to take out 1-Alpha so we can lend some support. Captain Bakshi! How many Shiva nukes is your ship carrying?”

“Three, sir.”

“Prep all three, lock onto 1-Alpha and standby to fire on my mark. We got to end this, Captain!”

“Aye, sir! TAO, give me a firing - _WAH_ \- !"

For a few precious seconds, all Tethong could do was stare blankly at the spot Bakshi's hologram once stood as the entire ship was sent reeling from a massive explosion that took place somewhere near the dorsal section of the ship. Close to where the bridge was located.

“TAO, report!” he heard himself bark. "What the hell happened to Captain Bakshi?”

"We've lost all communications with the bridge, sir!" the young lieutenant in charge of the CIC instantly replied, his fingers flying across his workstation. "Cause unknown!"

"Is it a communications glitch?”

"No sir! It appears that the... that the bridge is... I'm getting reports that we have a hull breach right where the bridge is located sir! I think the bridge has been..."

"Destroyed," Tethong grimly finished for him. "Shit. Alright, switch all systems over to the secondary bridge and contact the XO: inform Commander Tassano he's the captain now."

"Aye, sir!"

“What's the status on those nukes!?”

“Being loaded now, sir!”

“Prep a full volley of Archer missiles and fire both at the same time; give those pulse laser turrets something else to fire at and increase the chance our nukes make it through!”

“Sir,” the TAO replied. “Silo one is prepped and loaded, silo two is – “

“RADIATION FLARE! A thousand röntgens and climbing fast!”

“Lieutenant, that destroyer is turning on its axis!”

“Admiral, we're getting locked on by that destroyer!”

“TAO, fire the Shiva!” Tethong bellowed. “Fire whatever missiles we've got loaded! Helm, EVASIVE – “

**XXXXX**

**Heliopolis Station, High Orbit, Actium**

**Admiral Spaatz**

Spaatz blinked as, without warning, his screen turned to static.

“Kanin!” Spaatz yelled, doing his best to remain calm. “What happened to my image?”

“Signal was lost at the source, sir!” Kanin replied as he abruptly appeared beside Spaatz, wringing his paws in concern.

“Because of the radiation from that plasma beam?” Spaatz hopefully supplied.

Kanin's face was grim. “Negative, sir. Sensors indicate the UNSC _Katara Pass_ was just destroyed.”

“What about that nuke!?” Spaatz leapt to his feet and hurried over to Kanin's projector. “Were they able to fire off that nuke or not!?!?”

“Working on determining that now, sir!”

Spaatz impatiently drummed his fingers against his desk as Kanin worked. A few nearby crewmembers threw curious glances in his direction, but a single glare had them scurrying back to their consoles. Without anything to do but wait, Spaatz glanced at his tactical display. Long range sensors could tell there was still fighting going on around Tenedos, but who, what, and how much damage was being done wasn’t clear: the sheer amount of radiation left by the Covenant's plasma beam and potentially from the Shiva nuke was preventing him from obtain a clear picture. He needed visual – now.

“Image coming online now, sir,” Kanin finally said after a few fretful minutes. “Be advised, sir, I’m pulling the image from a satellite in geosynchronous orbit around Tenedos so image quality might not be as good.” There was a sudden moment of hesitation from him. “I’ve also taken the liberty to rewind the footage to the exact moment the _Katara Pass_ was destroyed, sir, so you can see for yourself the events that occurred within the moments that followed her destruction.”

Spaatz nodded, not quite trusting himself to speak at the moment. Fortunately, Kanin took the affirmation for what it was, and started playback.

It was as Kanin reported. The video began with the blue-white flash of the plasma beam, which disappeared less than a second later, revealing the remains of the UNSC _Katara Pass_. The plasma lance had split the ship in half right down her beam. Small explosions were erupting all over the wreck as whatever oxygen remained in her passageways explosively decompressed, forcing both halves of the former ship to slowly drift apart. However, Spaatz's focus wasn’t on the ship itself, but the three dozen or so missile contrails that were rapidly departing from all sections of the ship.

Including one large one that could be traced back to a silo located on the former _Katara's_ dorsal hull. A single Shiva nuke.

The missiles sped towards 1-Alpha, who at first failed to react, distracted as they were, trying to finish off the UNSC _Goodfellow_. It wasn’t until the missiles were less than five thousand kilometers away did the destroyer’s crew seem to realize they weren’t out of the woods just yet, and started to shoot back. Orange explosions lit up the void as the first few missiles were destroyed, however the Covenant weren’t able to shoot all of them and Spaatz was able to see the single Shiva nuke slip right past their defense grid and then –

The entire screen was washed away by white light as the nuke detonated, and Spaatz found himself hurriedly turning down the brightness of his display to compensate.

In took a few seconds for the light to dissipate, finally allowing Spaatz to assess the damage. By the looks of it, the Shiva had struck in the spot right where the port side nacelle of the destroyer connected with the main body. The ensuing explosion had destroyed that connection, causing the entire nacelle to shear off, sending it flying away merrily in the opposite direction of the ship. Atmosphere was venting from the breach, bringing along with it a mass amount of small objects, though the satellite was too far away to tell if the objects were debris or bodies. The purple hull of the ship was now black with soot, and about three quarters of the run lights on the destroyer had gone dark. Despite the impressive amount of damage done though, it was clear the ship was far from dead.

“How the hell is that ship still alive?” Spaatz said with a groan as he rapped his knuckles against his forehead. “That Shiva was on course to impact their bow!”

“Frame by frame analysis seems to indicate that the destroyer detonated a series of explosives on their portside hull seconds before impact. The explosion was enough was knock the entire ship out of the line of fire, though as evident by the damage, not completely.”

“Emergency thrusters,” Spaatz said with mute realization. “Must have seen our ships do it enough times, they decided to adopt a version of their own.”

“They’re learning, sir,” Kanin noted, causing Spaatz to snort in disgust.

“Took them twenty years to do so, but naturally they’ve got to start implementing these tactics at the worst possible time for us,” Spaatz grunted, then shook his head and stood up straight. He glanced at his screen where it showed 1-Alpha was still aimlessly flying around through space. “Switch to live view.”

His screen changed. Now the destroyer had come alive once more. While its primary engines were still down, 1-Alpha's maneuvering thrusters had come to life, stabilizing the ship. For what, became clear a moment later when a slipspace portal opened up nearby and deposited two _CRS_ -class light cruisers – which the computer automatically designated as “1-Charlie” and “2-Charlie.” As Spaatz watched, the cruisers flew in close to the damaged destroyer, to the point where they were less than a hundred meters apart, before deploying something that connected the cruisers to the destroyer. Then they ignited their sublight engines.

"What are they doing?" Spaatz asked out loud. "Kanin, track their trajectory. Where are they going with that ship?"

"Looks like they're headed towards the thickest part of Tenedos' rings, sir," Kanin replied with a frown. “Best guess, sir? They intend to take shelter there and enact repairs.”

“What's the status on DS227?”

“Still engaged, sir, though Captain Yoder is reporting the _Roger Moore_ has been destroyed.”

“Order him to break contact - he's got three more ships inbound, he's not going to be able to handle them all. How many of our frigates survived?”

“Two: UNSCs _Oberon_ and _Titania_. But both are heavily damaged.”

Spaatz bit back a sigh. “Have Captain Yoder and his squadron rendezvous with the remaining frigates, then fall back to the other side of Tenedos where they are to stay out of sight until reinforcements arrive. Speaking of which…”

“Where the fuck are my reinforcements!?”

* * *

General Notes:

Ships mentioned in this chapter:

 **UNSC _Katara Pass_** : is named after the Battle of Katara Pass, which is not a real battle nor is it one from canon, but an original battle.

 **UNSC _Breanne’s Creek_** : as above, this ship is named after another battle from my universe.

 **UNSC _18 Scorpii_** : this ship is named after the Battle of 18 Scorpii which, unlike the other two examples, is actually a canon battle. The Battle of 18 Scorpii took place in March of 2543 and was one of the few UNSC victories over the Covenant during the Human-Covenant War.

 **UNSC _Oberon_** , _**Titania**_ , and, _**Goodfellow**_ : these names are all derived from the names of the fairies from Shakespeare’s _A Midsummer Night’s Dream_ (Robin Goodfellow, as is the fairy’s full name, is also referred to as “Puck” in both the play and the original English folklore the character is derived from.)

 **UNSC _Martel_** : “Martel” is the old French word for “hammer,” and is also the last name of one of the most famous Frankish kings, Charles Martel, who’s known for winning the Battle of Tours (also known as the “Battle of the Highway of the Martyrs” in Arab sources; alternative the battle is sometimes referred to as the “Battle of Poitiers”) in 732 CE, which effectively ended the Muslim advance into Western Europe. As a result of this victory, there have been two French battleships named after Charles Martel (technically, one was an ironclad; it was eventually cancelled, but sources differ whether it was cancelled after it had been laid down or before construction had even begun.)

I didn’t actually name the ship because of any of this, I just thought the name was cool.

 **UNSC _Connery_ , _Roger_ _Moore_ , _Dalton_** , and _**Pierce**_ : obviously these ships are all named after James Bond actors. When naming ships, sometimes I find it easier to have a theme. In-universe though, these ships would all be named after UNSC Navy heroes who just so happened to share the same names of some of the James Bond actors of the old world.

Other Notes:

**Ship Terminology:** A lot of the naval terminology used in this chapter was taken from media like TNT’s drama, _The Last Ship_ and movies like _Greyhound_. I will freely admit, while I at least attempted to research what most of the terms actually meant, I mostly threw them into the story more to make the story sound cooler, and not at all because I actually knew what I was talking about.

 **TAO** : **T** actical **A** ction **O** fficer. A position on a navy warship that is responsible for controlling the ship’s weapons, sensors, and propulsion during combat. This is not a permanent officer’s designation, but a rotating responsibility (known in the U.S. Navy as a “watchstander or “watchstanding” assignment) that, depending on the size of the warship, may have several officers possessing. In the absence of the captain or the executive officer, the TAO is usually the officer in charge of the CIC.

 **OOD** : **O** fficer **O** f the **D** eck. A position on a navy warship that is responsible for both navigation and safety of a ship. While at port, the OOD is usually stationed on the quarterdeck, or the equivalent entry point to the ship and responsible for verifying all personnel and visitors who attempt to board. While at sea, the OOD is stationed on the bridge and absent the captain or the executive officer, is the officer in charge. As far as chain of command goes, the OOD is usually third in charge. Like the TAO, the OOD is not a permanent officer’s designation, but a watchstanding position.

 **Cruiser weight:** the nearly 91000 metric ton weight of the UNSC _Katara Pass_ is derived from specifications graph on the Halopedia page for the UNSC _Marathon_ , the lead ship of the _Marathon_ -class of heavy cruisers. That information in turn was derived (as noted by the citations) from the Halo official novel, _Halo: Ghost of Onyx_ , page 53. The information actually states the ship weighs 100000 tons, however it doesn’t specify whether that’s short tons, imperial tons, or metric tons. I’m assuming that given the author of _Ghost of Onyx_ , Eric Nylund, is American, the unit is in short tons, so I converted it over to metric tons instead because in my stories, I’m trying to stick with the metric system.


	4. Lock and Load

**Heliopolis Station, High Orbit, Actium**  
**May 6, 2545**  
**0827**

**Spaatz**

"Admiral D'Amboise,” Spaatz greeted as soon as the line connected but before D’Amboise had a chance to reply, Spaatz jumped straight to the point. “What is the status of the relief force for Tenedos and why isn't it ready yet?”

D’Amboise sighed, causing his hologram to flicker. “I’ve assembled the ships of Destroyer Squadron 29 of Nineteen Fleet, reassigned them some frigates from Battleship Battle Group Ten, and was about ready to deploy them when information regarding the location of the battle reached me and I deemed extra fighter support was necessary in order to more adequately provide cover for our heavy hitters. However, as Sixth Fleet does not currently have any attack carriers or assault ships assigned to it, I turned to the Air Force for some of their assets. And that's where the holdup is: their fleet carriers aren't coming.”

Spaatz raised an eyebrow at that. “Order them, then.”

“I’m afraid it’s not as simple as that, sir.”

Spaatz had to do a double take at that.

“Admiral,” he slowly began, pinching the bridge of his nose in an effort to ward off a coming headache. “You’re the supreme military commander of all of Actium. _What is the problem.”_

D’Amboise opened his mouth, seemed to hesitate for a moment, before plunging ahead. “General Iqbal has insisted on speaking with you before he reassigned any of his Command's assets.”

“General Iq- “ Spaatz cut himself off before he could say anything he would later regret. Taking a moment to regain his composure, he continued. “Lieutenant General Tevita Iqbal of Actium Orbital Defense Command? What does he want?”

“He has expressed concerns about the relief plan, sir.”

Spaatz bit back a sigh. In the time he had known General Iqbal of the UNSC Air Force, he had proven himself to be a particularly odious, self-serving, and arrogant man who was more concerned about covering himself and his military branch of choice in glory, rather than the betterment of the UNSC as a whole. As a result, Spaatz made it a general rule to limit his interactions with the man as much as possible.

Yet, at the same time, if Iqbal had concerns about this plan of theirs that proved to be sound, then Spaatz had an obligation to at least hear him out, to not only ensure his men and ships didn’t take unnecessary casualties or damage, but also so that their mission had a greater chance of success.

“Alright,” Spaatz finally decided. “I will talk to him. In the meantime, let’s not waste any more time. Get the two carriers on QRA duty…”

“UNSCs _Trenchard_ and _Pégoud_ , sir,” Kanin helpfully supplied and Spaatz absentmindedly nodded his thanks.

“Yeah, them. Get them loaded up and ready to move out on a moment’s notice.”

“Aye, sir,” D'Amboise replied, bowing his head as his image disappeared.

Taking a moment to steel himself, Spaatz finally said, “Kanin, connect me to General Iqbal.”

Almost before the words could fully leave his mouth, Iqbal’s image immediately appeared on his screen.

“Admiral!” Iqbal sounded before Spaatz could even open his mouth in greeting. “What's this I hear about you reassigning two of my fleet carriers!?”

Spaatz took a moment to consider whether or not he should respond to that, before deciding he couldn’t let that comment slide. “’ _Your_ ' fleet carriers? General, do I need to remind you that those ships and all of their assets are property of the armed forces of the United Nations Space Command? And that it is with their authority I am able to reassign them as **_I_** see fit without prior consultation with you or any of your staff?”

“That maybe so, sir, but the ships were bought, crewed, and maintained by money and personnel of the UNSC Air Force.”

“Yes, of which you are neither the chief of staff of, nor commander-in-chief of,” Spaatz immediately pointed out.

Iqbal opened his mouth to retort, but Spaatz immediately cut him off with a single glance. “General, I have a battle group that's cut off by the Covenant that needs immediate reinforcing and right now you’re holding me up, so let me be blunt: what exactly is your concern here?”

“There's not enough ships assigned to this relief force.”

“DS29 consists of seven, _Halberd_ and _Hillsborough_ -class destroyers.”

“Of which, many whose crews were on leave.”

“Only second and third shift crews were on leave; all first shift crews were still onboard meaning all of those ships are at full operational status. They just can’t maintain that status for longer than a day, however it is doubtful if the battle of Tenedos will last that long, one way or another.”

“Well, there aren’t enough escorts to protect both my carriers, and the navy destroyers.”

“Five _Paris_ -class heavy frigates have been reassigned from Battleship Battle Group Ten. Seeing as how naval destroyers don’t require escorts, all five of them are being assigned to protect the Air Force fleet carriers, alongside the squadrons of Longswords that normally protect those ships.”

“What about the remaining ships of BG Tenedos? They’ve all been damaged, haven’t they? So won’t they need protecting?”

“Those ships have fallen back to low Tenedos orbit and have rallied around the service, repair, and refit station Anchor 5. In order to protect them, every single supply ship, civilian trawler, atmospheric mining facility, and barracks ships that had been orbiting Tenedos has been relocated to that location to act as a shield.”

“None of those stations or ships have weapons. If the Covenant were to attack in force -”

“No, but all the Air Force kill satellites that were also orbiting Tenedos have been relocated there as well, and they are more than capable of holding back the Covenant long enough for reinforcements to arrive,” Spaatz interrupted. He was perhaps laying it on a bit thick in regards to his last point – kill sats were hardly ODPs, after all – but one thing Spaatz had learned about Iqbal was the man could not and would not believe anything the UNSCAF built and controlled was less than adequate. 

He held up a hand before Iqbal could continue. “General, I’m not hearing a concern here that hasn’t been addressed yet.”

Iqbal snapped his fingers, as if Spaatz had just proven his point. “My point exactly, sir. It sounds like the Navy has every aspect of this plan covered. _So why do you need my ships!?_ Sir.”

Spaatz took a deep breath, and mentally counted to ten, before deciding to try another tactic. “I trust, General, you’ve seen the casualty list from the initial skirmish over Tenedos?”

Iqbal snorted. “Of course. I am a professional, Admiral.”

Spaatz decided not to comment on that.

“Then you should know that, despite the heavy amount of casualties BG Tenedos took, they were also able to damage three of the eight Covenant ships in the system,” Spaatz noted. “All three of those ships have decided to take shelter in the thickest and most dense part of Tenedos’ rings, presumably to enact repairs. It’s a good move because of how thick the area is, our warships would not able to attack those ships, at least not without exposing themselves to fire from the remainder of the Covenant fleet. The same, however, cannot be said for one-man strike fighters.”

That immediately caught Iqbal's interest, just as Spaatz expected.

“The Navy doesn’t have carriers in system, do they?” Iqbal slowly asked, as if coming to a sudden realization.

“Not Sixth Fleet, no. Nineteenth Fleet does, and they are en route, but they won’t arrive in system for another few hours at earliest.”

“So,” Iqbal leaned back in his chair, sounding smug all of a sudden. “You need my ships in order to make up for a shortfall with the Navy. _Interesting…”_

Spaatz had to resist rolling his eyes at that because he wasn’t some fresh ensign straight out of the academy, he was a four star admiral and he had to act like it. “In a manner of speaking, General.”

“So, if my ships are going to be used to destroy the Covenant,” Iqbal mused, “then what are your ships supposed to do?”

“The main objective of this relief force – which is being dubbed ‘Joint Task Force Omaha’ for this operation – is twofold: relieve the remaining ships of BG Tenedos and destroy target 1-Alpha, the _CPV_ -class heavy destroyer the UNSC _Katara Pass_ was able to heavily damage before her demise. Secondary objectives will be to either escort the survivors of BG Tenedos back to Actium for repair if possible – or salvage what they can if not – as well as destroy targets 1-Bravo and 2-Bravo, which had also been damaged in the fighting. How **_our_ **ships accomplish that will depend on the JTF commander though I imagine DS29 will be sent to assist with BG Tenedos while the remainder of the ships will hunt down and destroy target 1-Alpha,” Spaatz explained as patiently as possible.

“How will JTF Omaha reach Tenedos?”

Spaatz stared blankly at Iqbal. “They’re going to do a slipspace jump, naturally.”

“In-system slipspace jumps are still rather unreliable for our slipspace engines, sir.”

“Which is why Admiral Tethong had his forces deploy all the guidance beacons he had in possession around Tenedos prior to his death in action. It will allow our forces something to lock onto.”

“That’s not a hundred percent reliable, sir; there’s still a good chance our ships could miss their targets by several hundred kilometers.”

Spaatz didn’t say a word, just stared at Iqbal blandly. He couldn’t tell if Iqbal was being deliberately obtuse, attempting to be insulting, or merely vocalizing for the record. Spaatz knew the risk of in-system slipspace jumps, even with the aid of slipspace guidance beacons; all naval and air force officers did. However, unless Iqbal had another option for allowing eleven warships and their gunship escorts to travel over eight hundred million kilometers in less than a few minutes as opposed to several _years…_

At this point, Iqbal seemed to realize he was beginning to try Spaatz’s patience as he suddenly adopted a more consolatory look on his face. “The only major concern I have left, sir, is the other Covenant ships.”

“Elaborate.”

Iqbal sighed and leaned forward. “Long range sensors had indicated eight Covenant ships jumped into the system, sir, including a single _CCS_ -class battlecruiser. Now, correct me if I’m wrong, sir, that single ship is more than capable of laying waste to… more than half of Sixth Fleet. It’s certainly more than capable of destroying all of JTF Omaha. How can we be sure that… it’s not going to intervene?”

Spaatz had wondered when Iqbal was going to bring that up.

“ONI and AFIC has been running an analysis of all eight ships since their arrival in-system, but special attention has been paid to that battlecruiser for the reasons you have already covered,” Spaatz explained. “They were attempting to identify the ship by comparing it to footage of all past battlecruisers UNSC forces have encountered over the last two decades and in doing so, they discovering something intriguing: the battlecruiser in-system appears to have been deprived of over seventy-five percent of her weapon systems, leaving just enough for self-defense. Though, admittedly, when it comes to the Covenant, ‘self-defense’ is still enough to lay waste to an entire battleship battle group.”

Iqbal looked startled at that information. “Why on Earth would they do that?”

Spaatz shrugged. “Prevalent theory among my intelligence chiefs is that the Covenant removed their weapons in order to make more internal space. Room for what – ground forces, fighters, factories… a spa? – we don’t really know at the moment, however there is no denying the current formation of the Covenant fleet is designed to keep that battlecruiser far from the frontlines. We have no reason to believe that ship will intervene unless directly threatened.”

“If that’s the case, sir, shouldn’t we be on the lookout for more Covenant reinforcements?”

“Which is why we need to kick off this operation, ASAP,” Spaatz explained through gritted teeth. “We have, in our hands, the opportunity to potentially destroy three Covenant warships before their reinforcements potentially arrive. We can’t let this window close.”

Iqbal nodded imperiously at that. “I see. Well, I see your point, Admiral. I have two carriers currently on QRA status: the UNSC _Trenchard_ and _Pégoud_. You may use them.”

Spaatz was tempted to point out as commanding officer, in no way shape or form did he actually needed Iqbal’s permission to use _his_ ships, but just decided to take the victory for what it was. Instead, he merely gestured for Kanin to sever the connection.

“The people I have to deal with,” Spaatz muttered under his breath. “How the hell that man ever made it to general in the first place, I will never understand.”

“It probably helps that he’s a tenth generation general-grade air force officer, sir,” he heard Kanin glibly note, though Spaatz did his best to pretend he didn’t hear that, as to not have to chide him for his insubordination. Instead, he shook his head.

“Signal Admiral D’Amboise,” he commanded. “Get JTF Omaha in the air.”

**XXXXX**

**Low Orbit, Actium**  
**May 6, 2545**  
**0822**

**“Zelda”**

Zelda could feel sweat pouring down his neck as his environmental suit struggled to keep him cool as heat began building up in his cockpit; the result of all the friction on his hull, no doubt. His HUD was lit up with all sorts of warning lights, and there might have been an alarm or two, but it was a little hard to hear them with all the rattling and vibrating. None of the alerts were emergency warnings though, so Zelda was content to leave them be for now.

And then, just like that, it was over.

Letting out a sigh of relief, Zelda quickly switched off his engines, letting his bird drift along, trying to allow his engines a chance to cool down before they were thrown into combat. While Broadswords were rated to be able to reach escape velocity under their own power without the need for a booster pack, it put a lot of strain on the engines, which is why they were only used in an emergency. Like a Covenant invasion, Zelda supposed.

 _"Omega Flight, radio check, sound off in sequence,"_ Bellum suddenly ordered, and Zelda couldn't help but roll his eyes. He understood the need to make sure everyone in the squadron had made it off the planet in one piece, which is why they had to do roll call again, but it was kind of annoying having to sit there again listening to everyone sound off.

"So what's the plan boss?" Zelda asked over SQUADCOM as soon as the last fighter checked in. "I don't know about you, but I'm ready to kick ass and take names.

He heard Odessa let out a snort.

"What?" he demanded.

_"Anyone ever notice how Zelda is only ever ready for a fight when he's sitting behind at least forty millimeters worth of armor?"_

"What? What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

_"It means: you always seem to run away whenever a fistfight breaks out when we go drinking."_

"What? Lies and deceits I tell you," Zelda exclaimed. "I never run away!"

_"Yes you do."_

"No I don't."

_"Yes you do."_

"No, I don’t. Ask Betros, he was the last guy I went drinking with. Tell them Betros!"

 _"Wait, how did I get dragged into this?"_ Betros asked, sounding confused.

"Don't worry about it," Zelda assured him. "Just tell the squadron how great of a fighter I am."

Betros audibly hesitated.

 _"But you're not,"_ he finally said with obvious reluctance.

Zelda sighed as the rest of the squadron started giggling. "Bah, what the hell would you know Betros? At this point, you’re practically a gravel cruncher."

At once the protest came streaming in.

_"Whoa, hold on..."_

_"That's totally uncalled for!"_

_"Me thinks you went a little too far there Zelda,"_ Odessa chided. _"You should take that back."_

"Alright, fine!" Zelda said, rolling his eyes. "I admit, I took it too far: I apologize Betros."

 _"That's alright,"_ Betros replied, sounding equal parts confused and amused. _"I forgive you."_

Zelda waited a moment before quickly adding, "You're still a cunt for not backing me up though."

 _"That's okay,"_ came Betros' highly amused replied. _"I can live with that."_

 _"Good,"_ Bellum suddenly interjected, _"because we're leaving it at that. Listen up guys, we're headed for the_ Trenchard _to get refitted for space combat."_

Zelda grunted in acknowledgement as he reactivated his engines and adjusted his course. Of course they had to go to the _Trenchard_ first. Zelda always forgot how much of a difference there was between fighting in the sky and fighting in space. For starters, the distances involved in space combat were so much greater than that of fighting within the confines of a planet's atmosphere. Which meant Zelda's Broadsword not only needed to be refueled in order to replace all the fuel he had burned trying to achieve escape velocity, he also needed to have drop tanks installed so that he could have enough gas for all the dogfighting he would no doubt be doing.

In the vacuum of space, there was no gravity, so certain weapons couldn't be used. The Mark 208 general purpose bombs Zelda was currently carrying, for example, was of _extremely_ limited utility as they were entirely dependent on gravity and drag for propulsion. Conversely, because there was no gravity or drag, ships could be built much larger, with far more armor than they could if they were designed to be used within an atmosphere, which meant the Anvil IV air to air missiles Zelda was also carrying were also pretty much worthless as they didn't carry nearly enough explosive power to penetrate most, if not all, standard spaceship armor.

Then there was the entire "can't breathe in space" thing. Zelda's cockpit was both sealed against the vacuum of space and equipped with carbon monoxide scrubbers, but they could only do so much. He needed extra tanks of oxygen installed if he wanted to spend any extended amount of time in space.

All in all, it was going to take several minutes before Zelda was ready for space combat.

Zelda calmly followed the rest of the squadron as they banked to the right and headed for the _Trenchard_.

 _"Tango Charlie Tango, this is Omega Flight, on approach to your station, requesting instructions for landing, over,"_ Bellum asked over the radio as the _Trenchard's_ hull quickly began to fill Zelda's cockpit window.

_"Omega Flight, Charlie Tango. Proceed along highlighted route to hanger six. Be advised, vertical landing is required. Also, due to space requirements, aircraft will need to land on both the ground and the ceiling, over."_

_"Charlie Tango, Omega Flight, we copy your traffic. Proceeding along highlighted route, out,"_ Bellum said over the general channel before switching to SQUADOM. _"Alright guys, follow me in. Betros, with me.”_

Triggering his forward thrusters to cancel out his forward momentum, Zelda gently fired his rearward thrusters so he could deftly maneuver his Broadsword past the meter thick bay doors and into the belly of the ship. Switching on his bottom camera so he could see the aircraft marshaller's instructions, Zelda stopped in mid-air and slowly turned around so he was facing the doors.

"Landing gear," Zelda called out before gently lowering his Broadsword to the ground. "Magnetic clamps."

A light on his dashboard turned green, indicating his Broadsword was now secured to the deck.

Powering down, Zelda watched as the hanger bay doors rumbled closed. As was standard operating procedure, all the oxygen in the hanger bay had been pumped out, both to prevent explosive decompression as well as minimize the risk of a fire, so Zelda wasn't able to hear as the doors slammed shut, but he could feel the rumble as it translated through the metal.

Leaning back, Zelda automatically started to reach for his cockpit release lever.

 _"Guys, stay in your birds, we're not going to be here too long,"_ Bellum ordered over the radio, and Zelda reflexively looked towards the ceiling where Bellum's Broadsword was attached, upside down, directly above him. Having been assigned to a ground installation for the last month and a half, the sight was a bit of a mind screw for Zelda, and he was forced to look away.

_Tap tap._

Zelda jerked and around to see one of the _Trenchard's_ aircraft maintainers, clad in a vacuum sealed suit, tapping on his cockpit window. The maintainer pressed his palm against the window, and suddenly Zelda could hear the man's voice over his headset.

 _"Sir?"_ he was saying. _"We're going to need you to open your bomb bay doors."_

Zelda gave the man a thumbs up in acknowledgement before pushing a button and watched as the man float away. As was also standard, the gravity in the hanger had been turned off in order to facilitate the loading of heavy ordnance.

He couldn’t physically see what they were doing to his Broadsword, but his HUD was automatically updating as they made changes: they were installing the extra fuel and oxygen tanks, replacing his Anvils with Medusa air to air missiles and replacing his bombs with ASGM-10 anti-ship missiles. They also installed another two drums for his autocannon, increasing his ammunition reserves by three times the amount.

Without any gravity, it didn't take them long to have all the new equipment installed, and soon the chief mechanic was indicating for him to shut the bomb bay doors. At first Zelda thought they were done, and he moved to restart his engines, but instead of getting clear, they instead moved to the sides of his birds and began installing weapon hardpoints to both the top and undersides of his wings, allowing for even _more ordnance_ to be installed.

Zelda was impressed. And admittedly, a bit confused. What, was command expecting him to take on the entire Covenant Navy? Zelda was good, _really good_ , but even he had to acknowledge that feat may have been beyond him.

He looked around the hanger to see the rest of the squadron was receiving the same treatment. He reached for his radio.

"Hey Bellum," he called, looking up. He could see her start before looking up at him. Down at him. Whatever. "Have you noticed how much ordnance they're giving us?"

 _"Good,"_ Bellum interrupted. _"From what I’m hearing, we're going to need all of it."_

Zelda cocked his head. "Why?"

"What are we doing?"

**XXXXX**

**Limestone Arsenal, Thracia Province, Actium**  
**May 6, 2545**  
**0830**

**Tariq**

Tariq hauled himself out of the hatch so closely behind Buckley, his head was almost up his ass. Fortunately Chenko wasn't around to crack some joke about Tariq being a literal brown-noser, so he turned around to check up on Koroma.

"Come on Rook, hurry the fuck up!" Tariq snapped. "We're at war, don't you know!? This ain't some fucking, comedy sitcom road trip bullshit! This is the shizznit! Move like you got a pair!"

Koroma came scrambling out of the driver’s hatch like his ass was on fire. He moved to jump off the top of the tank, but Tariq yelled at him before he could. "Hey! Where the fuck is your em seven!?"

Koroma gave him a confused look. "You mean my SMG? It's in the tank."

"The fuck is it doing in there?"

"Um... not a whole lot?" Koroma suggested, and Tariq barely managed to stop himself from smacking him.

"You trying to be funny? Go fucking get it!"

As Koroma dove back into the tank to retrieve it, Tariq roared after him, "From this point on Rook, you take that damn thing wherever you go! You go get chow, you go take a shit, that weapon better be glued to your side! Treat it like it's your dick! In fact, treat it better than your dick! At least that thing might save your life someday!"  
Satisfied that was settled, Tariq turned around, only to see Buckley messing around the heavy machine gun they had mounted in a remote weapons station at the top of the turret. For the purpose of the exercise, they hadn’t been issued any live ammo for it, only blanks.

“Damn, if the Covenant really are in-system, we’re going to need some fucking ammo,” Buckley fretted as he removed the blank-firing adapter and tossed it aside.

Looking around, Tariq happened to spot the company executive officer running around gathering up all the platoon leaders, presumably for a briefing.

“Sir, looks like the Lieutenant Koupaki is gathering all the platoon leaders. Why don’t you go figure out where the fuck we’re going, while I figure out how to make sure we can fight when we get there?” Tariq suggest as Koupaki dashed over.

Buckley looked up to see what Tariq was staring at, before glancing back at Tariq. “You sure?”

Tariq resisted the urge to throw up his hands in disgust. “Ain’t my first rodeo, sir.”

“Alright, get it done then.” With that, Buckley hopped off the tank. Dodging past the crowd of soldiers now swarming around the tanks, he dashed over to Koupaki, leaving Tariq to try and figure out just how he was actually going to do what he said he was going to do.  
Climbing off the tank, he looked around. Limestone Arsenal might have been run by a unit from the Colonial Militia, but he knew they had stores of tank shells here. All he had to do was find someone to get it for him. There.

Tariq reached out and managed to snag of one of the militiamen running around.

“Listen, Corporal,” Tariq began after a quick glance at the man’s rank insignia. “I gonna need a lot of ammo for this bitch here – I’m talking HEAT, canister, SABOTs, and maybe some straight HE rounds. I also needs belts of 12.7mil, all the 7.62 you can get your hands on, and a box full of 73mm smoke grenades for my launchers. Oh, and I’m going to need some small arms ammo: 5mil, cased, for our SMGs. You got all that?”

The Corporal gave him a helpless look.

“Sorry, Sergeant,” he began, “but that’s not really my job. You’re going to want to talk to Sergeant –“

“Shut the fuck up, Corporal, and listen,” Tariq snapped, cutting the man’s excuses off. “WINTER CONTINGENCY is in effect. You know what that means? That means I only want to see one of two types of people: the _soldier_ who’s gonna stand on the frontline right beside me, or the motherfucker who’s gonna get me ammo. Which one are you gonna to be?”

The Corporal looked startled for a moment, before giving a resigned look. “I’ll, uh, get you some ammo, sir.”

“Then **_double-time_** it, _motherfucker!”_ Tariq roared and the Corporal jumped like he’d been stung. As the man ran off, Tariq yelled out as an afterthought, “And don’t call me fucking ‘sir!’”

Whirling around, Tariq glanced around, looking for his driver. “Rook!”

“Right here, Sergeant.”

Tariq jumped and glanced over his shoulder to see Koroma standing behind him, looking alert, but not quite as worried as Tariq thought he would be.

“Listen kid,” Tariq began. “I need you to –“

“Empty the tank’s magazine and carousel of training ammo so we can load up on live rounds,” Koroma finished. “I’m on it, Sergeant! Hey! You, you, and you!” he randomly grabbed three militiamen walking by. “Come with me! We’re going to form a chain; we’re going to empty out all the blue training rounds from the magazine so we got room to load up live rounds. Let’s move, people!”

Tariq couldn’t help but blink in surprise as Koroma and his small team of soldiers immediately got to work. He didn’t expect Koroma to be so assertive.

Removing his helmet, Tariq reached up to scratch his head, wondering what he was supposed to do now. Honestly, he had kind of expected he was going to need to hold Koroma’s hand as most rookies were usually pretty fucking incompetent. But now the ammo situation was getting settled… what else did he need? Fuel and water, perhaps, but looking across the room he could see First Sergeant Noble was already working on that. And until the ammo arrived, there wasn’t a whole lot else he could do.

“Hey there, sexy, you look lost.”

Tariq glanced over at Chenko. “The fuck do you want?”

“A cigarette?”

Tariq snorted before pulling out a fresh pack and broke it open. Offering one to Chenko, he pulled out one for himself. “Shouldn’t you be getting your guys ready?”

Chenko shrugged. “You know, the great thing about being a crunchie is that there’s seven of us, not including the ‘Dillo crew. Means, I got enough guys to run around doin’ all the bitch work while I sit around and laugh at my friends.”

Tariq gave him a halfhearted glare. “Yeah? Well, I don’t exactly have that luxury, so why don’t you fuck off, you cunt.”

“Language!” Chenko jauntily teased, before taking a drag from his cigarette. “Nah, in all seriousness, I heard you yelling at that poor feller, figured I’d see what’s up. You know, you might want to consider dropping the SABOTs and doubling up on the HE.”

“The fuck would I do that for?”

"Don't you remember Draco III?"

Tariq involuntarily shuddered. "I try not to," he admitted.

Chenko inclined his head. "Yeah, me too. But we kind of have to. The point is, on Draco III, remember we realized Covenant armor wasn't really our big problem; one or two HEAT shells was usually enough to destroy anything the Covies could field. No, our biggest problem was the constant air attacks cause the Air Force couldn't maintain air superiority. I just remember Duvall bitching non-stop about not having the right weapons to shoot back."

Tariq couldn’t help but shudder as memories of the fighting on Draco III came flooding back into his mind despite his best efforts. Unable to prevent to flow, he did his best not to focus on how the battle ended, but on the fights themselves and he realized Chenko was right: towards the end there, once the Covenant had gained air superiority, it proved almost impossible to travel more than five klicks without getting jumped by Banshees. And naturally, the SPAAGs were never around when that happened. Of course, it wasn’t as if tanks were really capable of fighting off air attacks on their own, but high explosive shells with programmable fuses at least gave him _some_ semblance of being able to fight back.

Realizing Chenko was right, he was able to say as much, when he happened to notice Chenko was studying him rather intensely.

"What?" Tariq bluntly demanded.

"You alright?" Chenko asked, just as bluntly.

"Yeah, of course I am," Tariq breezily replied. "Why wouldn't I be?"

Chenko shrugged. "I seem to remember you taking the fall of Draco III pretty hard."

"Yeah? Well, if you didn't take that shit pretty hard, then you've got no fucking soul," Tariq snapped. "We left those people there, and they ended up paying the price, didn't they?"

Chenko looked at him closely. "We didn't have a choice," he began, but Tariq wasn't having it.

"Yeah? Well, neither did they," he snapped, letting his cigarette drop out of his mouth. He put it out by viciously stomping on it. "Look, I'm not fucking talking about this right now. What happened, happened. Just focus on the task at hand, that's what's important right now."

He pushed passed Chenko, only to see his outburst had caught Koroma's attention, who was now staring at him with a look of concern on his face. The sight infuriated Tariq, who snapped, "What the fuck are you looking at kid? Get the fuck back to work!"

The loud _CLUNG CLUNG_ of metal feet heralded the arrival of a Cyclops powered exoskeleton.

"Hey, I got ammo!" the driver – the same Corporal from earlier - yelled as he deposited the pallet he was carrying on the ground.

“You guys get the shells loaded up, I got the machine gun ammo!” Tariq immediately demanded and before anyone could protest, Tariq grabbed a nearby prybar and began digging into the crates.

“Ah, the benefits of rank,” he heard Chenko mutter behind him. Tariq automatically flipped him off before grabbing a few boxes of machine gun ammo.

Given the turret was full of guys loading up tank shells, Tariq focused on loading up the M247H heavy machine gun they had mounted on the commander’s hatch. As he worked on linking several belts together to feed into the ammunition feed chute, he became aware of someone staring at him, and he glanced over his shoulder to see Koroma standing on the edge of the tank, peering over the edge of the turret to stare at him.

“What the fuck are you staring at?” he demanded to know.

Instead of retreating like he thought he would, Koroma seemed to glance around, as if making sure no one else was listening in, before leaning in closer. “Sergeant, are you okay?”

Tariq blinked in surprise. That was not what he expected. “What the fuck are you talking about? Why wouldn’t I be okay?”

Koroma looked a bit uncomfortable. “I just… well, I couldn’t help but overhear a bit of what you and Sergeant Chenko were talking about, and I didn’t hear much, but from what I could see, I could tell that something Sergeant Chenko said triggered… like a memory or something, and I just wanted to make sure you were… you know, up to this.”

Tariq had to admit, he was flabbergasted by Koroma’s audacity and because of that, he automatically replied with, "That's none of your fucking business kid."

Koroma frowned. "No offense Sergeant, but I think it kind of is. We're crewmates. We ride in the same tank. Our fates are intertwined. Anything happens to the tank will affect both you and me. Plus, practical reasons aside, I kind of like to make sure my friends are okay."

"We aren't friends," Tariq said shortly. "Whoever gave you that idea is a fucking idiot. Look Rook, let me break it down for you: I know what I'm doing. I've done this before. You on the other hand? You are nothing and nobody. If I were you, I wouldn't worry about me, I'd worry about doing my _fucking_ job properly. Because so far? You haven't. So stop sitting around yakking, and go finish loading up the magazine for the main cannon!!"

Rather than have the good graces to look offended, Koroma seemed even more concerned than before, but nevertheless obeyed.

"Fucking FNGs getting more uppity every day," Tariq muttered darkly under his breath as Koroma walked away.

“Sergeant.”

_“Mother- “_

Tariq slammed his mouth shut on the rest of his words as he abruptly realized it was Buckley calling his name, not Koroma. “Sir?”

Buckley frowned, but decided not to comment. “All personnel platoon briefing.”

Tariq nodded and glanced over at the soldiers Koroma had recruited to work for them. “You guys keep at it, we’ll be right back.”

Without waiting for a response, Tariq hopped off the tank and followed in Buckley’s wake as he walked over to where the rest of the platoon was being assembled.

“Alright, 2nd Platoon, listen up!” Buckley barked as soon as Tariq’s platoon sergeant had everyone gathered. “First thing’s first: encryption and authentication codes should have been sent to all TCs. Check your TACPADs, make sure you got ‘em. If not, come see me or Sergeant Gyeon after we’re done here.”

“Next: call signs. Kilo Company is being assigned the call sign: Cataphract. So, Captain Lightfoot is Cataphract-6; First Sergeant Noble is Cataphract-7; I’m Cataphract 2-6 when dismounted, Cataphract 2-1 when not; Sergeant Gyeon is Cataphract 2-7 when dismounted, Cataphract 2-4 when not etc., etc. Meanwhile, our sister company – Joker Company – is Hippeis, our infantry support is Dragoon, battalion HHC is Lancer, and our forward support company is Merkava. Remember these call signs people.”

“Lastly, our destinations: the brigade is getting split up into multiple tasked forces, each one center around each of the combat battalions, all with their own support units. Each task forces is getting positioned around the AO to secure and or reinforce individual locations. Task Force 4-337 with call sign “Spearpoint” – that’s us, by the way, each task forces is getting named after their parent regiments – is getting sent to O’Neil Air Force Base to help the SF squadrons there in the event of a Covenant attack.”

“Sir, is that wise?” one of the tank commanders immediately spoke up. “Scattering around the AO like that means if the Covenant were to land in force, we won’t be able to strike a decisive blow.”

“You have a point there, Sergeant, but at the same time, dispersing us prevents us from all getting wiped out in the event the Covenant decide to jump straight to the glassing phase,” Buckley noted. “Plus, because we still don’t know what the Covenant’s intentions are, dispersing us allows us – in the event of a Covenant landing – to delay the Covenant advance long enough for reinforcements to hopefully arrive.”

Tariq mentally snorted as he clocked Buckley’s use of “hopefully.” Yeah, he knew exactly how much “hopefully” had turned out on Draco III…

“Any other questions?” Buckley asked as he looked at each and every individual soldier assembled in front of him. When no one else spoke up, Buckley nodded. “Right. Our priority right now is to refuel and rearm. If you need anything else – food, water, medical supplies – now is the time to get it. Otherwise, we move out in ten. Got it?”

“Yes, sir,” Tariq mumbled alongside everyone else.

“Good. Get it done, gentlemen. Dismissed.”

**XXXXX**

**Camp Hoxha, Moesia Province, Actium**  
**May 6, 2545**  
**0900**

**Marcus**

The rumbling of jets filled the air, and Marcus looked up into the sky to see more jets than he'd ever seen in his entire life. All sorts of airframes, many of which he didn't even recognize, filled the air like one giant flock of birds headed south for the winter. In many ways, it reminded Marcus of the old photos he had seen of World War II, of all the Allied bombers headed for Europe. It made him shiver in fright; hopefully, they would be able to keep the Covenant as far away from him as possible.

Marcus jumped when he felt a hand grab his shoulder.

"Come on Marcus, need to keep moving," Dresden urged. "We don't have time to dawdle: we got to get some guns, then go prep our rig, and then get loaded up with some cargo, all before the Covenant start their attack.

Marcus numbly nodded and allowed Dresden to guide him towards the armory. He still couldn't believe it. Covenant? Here? On Actium? Impossible. Actium was an Inner Colony. A lot could be said about the way the UNSC was running this war, but no one could say they weren't doing their best in trying to keep the location of the colonies a secret from the Covenant, especially the inner ones. So how was it, the Covenant had found them? And they had to have found them. When Marcus had first heard the news, he had tried to convince himself this was all just one giant, elaborate trick to do... he didn't know what. But with everything he had seen so far, with all the jets flying through the air, the tanks rolling down the street, and all the soldiers, Marcus knew everybody's worst nightmare had come true: Actium was under attack.

And he was stuck here, on the frontlines, when he should have been at home, seeking shelter with the rest of his family! Damn this draft! This wasn't supposed to happen like this!

"Come on Marcus, I know you're worried and probably more than a bit scared. But cheer up! We don't know what the Covenant are up to, so there's a chance they won't actually attack this area," Dresden cheerful announced. "Maybe they'll make landfall on the other side of the planet, and the fighting will take place far from us."

"My family lives on the other side of the planet sir," Marcus miserably reminded him, and for a moment, Dresden's smile wavered.

"Oh. Right," he dumbly said before quickly recovering. "Then the poles. With any luck, maybe they'll land at the planet's poles."

"The Covenant want to kill all humans. Why would they land at a place where there are no humans?" Marcus couldn't help but point out.

Dresden stared at him with an incredulous expression, before he burst out laughing. "Man," he commented, "you are way too young to be this grim. I can see we're going have to work on you. Well then, Mister Grumpy-pants, if the end of the world **_is_ **here, we better make sure we're ready for it, shouldn’t we? Let's get some guns."

He grabbed a hold of the door to the armory, opened it, and gestured for Marcus to enter first.

Inside, there was already a long line of soldiers leading up to a pair of windows where rifles were getting issued. Marcus and Dresden waited in silence until it was Marcus' turn.

"Next!"

Marcus stepped up to the window.

"Name, rank, serial number?" the lady standing there demanded.

"Olsen, Marcus T," Marcus immediately recited for the umpteenth time today. "87662, 12457, O, M.”

He watched as the lady insert all that information into a data pad.

"What unit are you assigned to honey?" she asked.

Marcus opened his mouth to reply, but then froze when he realized he couldn't actually remember. He could feel his face start to redden as he felt the impatient eyes of everyone else in the room staring at him.

"He's with me, Standish," Dresden suddenly said from behind him. "1st Platoon, 707th Transportation Company."

Standish nodded and made a quick note on her data pad, before glancing at Marcus. "First day?" she gently asked.

Marcus nodded miserably, still embarrassed about not even knowing which unit he was part of.

"Man, you really got the short end of the stick, didn't you? First day, already struggling to figure everything out, and then boom: Covenant attack. Jeez," Standish commented sympathetically, before disappearing into the back.

She reappeared a few seconds later with an MA37 rifle in hand, of which she laid on the counter. He watched as she recorded the number stenciled on its buttstock before sliding it over.

"Sign here," she commanded as she handed the data pad over.

Marcus signed the spot indicated, then grabbed the rifle. He slipped the sling around his shoulders and let his rifle hang near his waist, feeling a bit awkward and completely out of place.

“You’re all set Private,” Standish told him. “Hey – good luck out there!”

“Yeah,” Marcus hesitantly replied. “You too I guess.”

The armorer nodded before calling out, “Next - oh, hey Theo. Where's Billy? I haven't seen him yet...”

Moving out of the way so Dresden could take his place at the window, Marcus headed for the door. He didn’t know where he was supposed to go next, so he hovered around the area, waiting for Dresden. He emerged several minutes later, carrying a rifle of his own.

“What do we do now, Sarge?” Marcus anxiously asked.

“Normally I would say we should go get ammo, but I think it’s more important right now we get our rig ready,” Dresden replied. “Once the Covenant start attacking, the air is going to get flooded with fighters and it’s going to get really hard to get supplies to where they’re needed. So yeah... let’s go do that. Come on, we’re heading to the motor pool.”

Dresden hefted his rifle with one hand and started walking away. Marcus quickly plodded after him, anxiously looking around. Dresden’s talk of air attacks had made Marcus realize how vulnerable he was out in the open like this, and he couldn’t help but nervously look around, half expecting to be attacked at any moment. Every noise made him twitch, and every movement, real or imagined, made him jump.

“Marcus.”

Marcus jumped, not expecting Dresden to suddenly call out his name. “Sir?”

“Calm down,” Dresden ordered without turning around.

“Sir?”

Dresden stopped and glanced over his shoulder. “Calm… down… If the Covenant were making landfall right now, trust me, we would know it. We’re safe at the moment so relax. You’re making me nervous.”

Marcus nervously swallowed. “Sorry, sir,” he managed to get out.

“Don’t be sorry, just… breath. Okay? I will tell you when it’s time to panic.”

Marcus nodded in understanding, not trusting himself to speak. Dresden gave him an encouraging smile before he started walking again.

They passed several buildings before reaching a large open area on the other side of the base where dozens and dozens of snow covered M8888 HEMTTs, were parked. Marcus and Dresden weren’t the first soldiers there, as several other crews were busy getting their vehicles ready. Dresden ignored them all though as he led Marcus to the second row of HEMTTs before stopping at one in particular, one whose cab had been covered by a olive-drab tarp before being covered in turn by snow.

“Well, this is us. This is our rig,” Dresden proudly announced. “This right here? You’re looking at the best rig in the entire fleet, bar none. Ain’t she a beaut?”

Marcus stared at the truck in question, then quickly glanced at all the other trucks around him. If he was being completely honest, they all looked identical to him. Still, he didn’t want to accidently offend the one guy who seemed to know what the hell he was doing so he casted around for something to say.

“She’s um, very nice?” Marcus suggested.

“Thanks,” Dresden distractedly replied. He had slung his rifle over his shoulder and was currently bent over, digging through the snow on the ground. What he was looking for was revealed a moment later when he pulled out the edge of the tarp that covered the cab. “Come on. Help me get this off.”

Marcus hastily bent over and grabbed the edge. Together, they managed to knock most of the snow off the cab and onto the ground, before Marcus helped Dresden fold the tarp closed. Tossing the tarp into a toolbox mounted on the side of the HEMTT, Dresden pulled out a shovel and handed it to Marcus.

“Here. Go shovel off as much of the snow as you can from the bed of the truck. I got to check the engine.”

Marcus nodded and went to work. It didn’t take him long to complete his task. But just as he finished, he happened to look up and see the soldier who had checked him in this morning struggling through the snow towards them. Marcus couldn’t remember his name though. What caught Marcus’ attention though, was the sheer amount of weapons the man was carrying. The man had a rifle strapped across his back, but he was also balancing a machine gun on his shoulders with one hand, while carrying two ammo cans in the other.

“Orlović! Finally. What were you doing, taking a nap?” Dresden teasingly called out. “Marcus! Go help him!”

“Nah, Sarge, I got this,” Orlović said with a grunt as he tossed the ammo cans onto the bed of the rig, then gently leaned the machine gun against the side. “Jesus fucking Christ, Sarge, I don’t get the Army sometimes. Seriously, I don’t. Fucking end of the world is coming, we got Covies about ready to attack any second now, and I still got to wait like five fucking centuries in line just to pick up my Gimpy? Seriously, what the fuck. You think the armory would be handing out weapons like candy on Halloween.”

“Welcome to the Army, Soldier, where not even Covenant plasma swords are sharp enough to cut through the red tape,” Dresden cheerfully declared. “By the way, Orlović, this here is new guy, better known as Olsen, Marcus T. Marcus, this is the last member of our team, William Orlović, or as he sometimes calls himself, ‘Billy-O.’”

Orlović groaned. “I will forever regret telling you that story.” He turned to Marcus and glared. “I was in a band in high school and I thought I was being clever. Just call me Orlović because if you call me Billy-O, I swear to God I will fucking shot you in the nads.”

“R - right. I’ll keep that in mind,” Marcus stuttered as he involuntarily crossed his legs. Orlović glared at him, before breaking out in a smile.

“I’m just playing with you bro,” he said cheerfully, then abruptly pointed his finger right at Marcus’ face. “But seriously, don’t call me that.”

“Well then. Now that we’ve got the team assembled, let’s talk about what we’re going to be doing today,” Dresden announced, letting the engine compartment close with a loud bang. “We’re going to need a driver, a gunner, and someone to monitor the radios. Who wants what?”

Orlović’s eyes lit up. “I call dibs on – “

“You can’t drive,” Dresden interrupted.

“What? Why not?”

“Seriously? You really need to ask? Last time you drove this rig, you backed it up into one of the supply warehouses.”

“Hey, that was not my fault!” Orlović protested. “I didn’t see it there!”

Dresden stared at him with an incredulous expression on his face. “It was a warehouse Orlović,” he said slowly. “It’s not like it was packet of, I don’t know, peanuts or something.”

“It was at a funny angle!”

“It was behind you…” Dresden said, sounding very much like he couldn’t believe he was having this conversation. “Whenever you reverse, things come from behind you!”

“Well… if I can’t drive, then you shouldn’t either!”

“Why not?”

“You’re the idiot who gave this truck such a fucking stupid name!”

Orlović pointed to the cab where, for the first time, Marcus noticed the word “Rig” was stenciled in black letters on the front bumper.

“Okay, so it’s not the most original name,” Dresden sheepishly allowed.

“My three year old niece could have named this truck a lot better than you and considering she named the family dog ‘Bunny,’ that’s saying a lot!”

“Okay, fine,” Dresden relented. “So, if you aren’t allowed to drive and I’m not allowed to drive, I guess the new guy will have to.”

Almost as one, they both turned to look at Marcus, who jumped.

“Who me?” Marcus blurted out. “I couldn’t…”

“You graduated from AIT, right?” Dresden asked. “You got your military license?”

“Yes, but…”

“Cool. Orlović, you’re on the gun and I’ll be on the radio.” Dresden glanced at Marcus. “It will be fine. We’re going to stick to the highways, there’ll be plenty of security and support. Just don’t crash.”

Marcus opened his mouth to protest, but before he could say anything, he was distracted when the armorer from before came walking up.

“HEY, THEO!” she yelled.

“There’s no need to yell Standish, I’m standing right here,” Dresden said as he hopped off the bed. "You done handing out weapons already? That was fast."

Standish shrugged unapologetically. “You guys were the last ones to come through. Anyways, the LT wants everyone by his rig for a quick brief,” she said. "Come on."

"You're going with us, Standish? You're not even part of our platoon."

Marcus could see Standish shrugged. "LT said everyone. I'm everyone. Come on, let's go."

Dresden seemed to shake his head. “Okay, fine. Orlović, Marcus, come on. Marcus, bring your rifle: from this point on, don’t go anywhere without it, got it?”

“Yes sir,” Marcus said, slinging his rifle over his shoulder. He followed Dresden and Orlović as they walked over to the command rig, which was a 6x6 flatbed variant of the Warthog. Standing on the top of the bed was a lieutenant, whom Marcus assumed was his new platoon leader.

“Gather around ladies and gentlemen, let’s go over our game plan really quickly,” the Lieutenant said. “First off, for the guys who just started today, welcome. Normally we’d have a more formal welcome for you, but unfortunately today is very clearly not normal, and you’re just going to have to adapt. Sorry.”

“Second, our mission. Our priority today is ammunition. Most of the units in our general AO have enough fuel, food, and water to last them a couple of days, but when the Covenant attack in force, which they will, they're going to be burning through ammo pretty quickly. It's our job to make sure they don’t run out. Our first priority are the air defense artillery battalions..."

The Lieutenant trailed off and Marcus looked around, bewildered, until he saw Standish had her hand raised and was patiently waiting to be acknowledged.

"Yeah Standish?" the Lieutenant called out.

"I just have a question sir," Standish began. "But have we actually gotten official confirmation that it's the Covenant attacking us? I mean, everybody is talking like they are, but I don't remember anyone actually _confirming_ it's them."

Marcus quickly thought back on the last few minutes and realized she was right: people just started talking about the Covenant, but no one officially had come outright and confirmed it was them.

For a few seconds, Marcus felt hope blooming. Maybe all this really was one giant training exercise, and people just started getting carried away with the rumor mill. Maybe they really weren't getting attacked.

Marcus' hope though, were immediately dashed when the Lieutenant shook his head.

"It’s a fair question," he admitted, "but the battalion commander has already confirmed. Plus, the colonial governor's office down in Lygos will be holding a press conference confirming the Covenant presence to the civilian populace soon. In fact," he checked his watch, "they should be holding that any second now. Arty! Anything?"

A soldier poked his out from the cab of the Warthog. "The music just stopped on all radio channels. I think they're about to begin."

"Well why the hell didn't you say anything?" the Lieutenant demanded. "Boost the signal and put it on screen; I want everyone to hear this."

Arty nodded and a moment later, a holographic image appeared, depicting a stage with an empty podium bearing the seal of the governor's office sitting on top. Marcus could see and hear the flashing and clicking of cameras, as well as the murmuring of reporters in the background. The room fell silent when an old lady, flanked by a number of politicians and military officers, walked onto the stage. Marcus recognized her as the governor of Actium, Governor Sargsyan.

 _"Good morning,"_ she began. _"My fellow Actonians, at exactly eight o'clock this morning, Coordinated Universal Time 00:00, the UNSC put the entire Ambracia System into a state of WINTER CONTINGENCY: the presence of a Covenant fleet was confirmed to be in orbit around Tenedos."_

_"In light of these events, and in an attempt to facilitate better communication and coordination with the UNSC, I am hereby declaring martial law over the entire colony. All civil and government facilities will be turned over to UNSC military control."_

_"At this juncture, the intentions of the Covenant are unclear, however as a precaution, the UNSC has already begun preparations for the immediate evacuation of key members of the government and prominent citizens. However until the military has determined exactly where the Covenant intend to strike first, I ask all citizens to remain in your homes and your workplaces until safe evacuation routes can be established and secured: unless there is an emergency, please keep all roads clear so as to allow both the UNSC and Actium militaries the ability to respond to events in a timely manner."_

_"While the military deals with these catastrophe events, in the meantime, I must remind all Actonians to remember that we are all sworn citizens of the UEG, and to act as so. I implore all citizens to remain calm and civil, and to continue to obey all laws and any commands given by uniformed UNSC military personnel. To all law enforcement officers, I charge you with maintaining order until this crisis has been averted."_

_“Before I finish today, I would like to take a moment to leave you with this reminder: throughout mankind's history, we have constantly been divided whether it be by religious, political, or racial reasons. However, we cannot afford to allow such divisions to continue today. Today, the Covenant are here, and with them, they bring nothing but death and destruction. Their record speaks for itself: the Covenant have proven time and time again they care not for our petty differences. They care not for our culture, our religion, or our way of life. In the eyes of the Covenant, we are nothing but scum, only worthy of extermination."_

_"On this day and the coming days, I want all citizens to remember who they are. We are not Inner Colonist or Outer Colonist. We are not Loyalist or Innies. We are not white, black, yellow, red, or any other color of the rainbow. We are all humans. Humans. And its humanity versus everyone else in the galaxy; if we are to remain divided, we will surely fall. But together, I promise you, we WILL hold strong!"_

_"Thank you very much, each and every single one of you. May whatever deity or being or ideal that you believe in see you through these upcoming dark days and I wish you all -"_

_"Good luck."_

* * *

General Notes

Ships mentioned in this chapter:

 **UNSC _Trenchard_** : this ship is named after Marshal of the Royal Air Force Hugh Montague Trenchard, 1st Viscount Trenchard, considered to be the father of the British Royal Air Force.

 **UNSC _Pégoud_ :** this ship is named after Sous-lieutenant (2nd Lieutenant) Adolphe Célestin Pégoud, a French Army pilot and the first fighter ace ever, obtaining his ace status by shooting down six German airplanes in 1915 during World War I. Lieutenant Pégoud was also unique in that he was the first man to ever make a parachute jump from an airplane (before, it had only been done from anchored hot air balloons.) Lieutenant Pégoud himself was shot down and killed in action on August 31, 1915. He was 26.

 ** _Trenchard_ -class aircraft carrier:** See above for explanation

 ** _Mukerjee_ -class aircraft carriers:** this class is named after Air Marshal Subroto Mukerjee, widely considered to be the father of the Indian Air Force, and it’s first Chief of the Air Staff.

Other Notes

**Anchor 5:** Service, repair, and refit stations (usually referred to as a SRRs; they’re also sometimes just called “refit stations,”) are canon UNSC Navy stations that, as the name implies, are designed to fix warships. A variant of the station, the UNSC _Cradle_ , was first mentioned in the official Halo novel, _Halo: The Fall of Reach_ , but the specific station mentioned in this chapter is modeled after the one that appeared in _Halo: Reach_. Those variants all appear to simply be given the name “Anchor,” hence the name here.

 **Slipspace Guidance Beacons:** these beacons are actually a canon device. As mentioned in the chapter, they are used to make in-system jumps more accurate and can be planted by other vessels (usually ONI prowlers,) however due to limitations with UNSC slipspace engines, it’s still rather tricky. Guidance beacons were most notably used during the canon battle of Psi Serpentis in 2543 by Admiral Preston Cole. Even then, at least a dozen ships still missed their target.

 **Distance between Actium and Tenedos:** as mentioned in the change log for chapter 3, mentally I’ve been viewing the distance between Actium and Tenedos to being roughly equal to that of Earth and Jupiter. Due to both planet’s elliptical paths around the Sun, the average distance between the two planets is roughly 467.56 million miles (or 752.46 million kilometers) apart.

 **Gravel Cruncher:** this is one is kind of tricky as it appears to have multiple meanings. In the USAF, it appears to refer to officers who don’t fly (as opposed to other services, where it could just refer to infantrymen.) Note: I don’t actually know if this term is an insult, but given how difficult it is to become a fighter pilot, even in the US military (which has something in the realm of two to three thousand jet fighters,) I would imagine it’s a point of pride for aspiring pilots who do manage to become fighter pilots, as opposed to just another officer on the ground.

 **SPAAG** : short for **S** elf- **P** ropelled **A** nti- **A** ircraft **G** un. Famous examples of SPAAGs include the American M16 half-track (which mounted the M45 quadmount .50cal machine gun) and German Ostwind of WW2, as well as the Shilka and Tunguska of the Cold War and modern times. In Halo, models would include the M9 Wolverine (from _Halo Wars_ ) and M808B2 “Sun Devil” (mounted on a Scorpion chassis) on the UNSC side, and the AA Wraith on the Covenant side.

 **HEMTT** : stands for **H** eavy **E** xpanded **M** obility **T** actical **T** ruck. The name is derived from the real world M977 HEMTT, an 8x8 armored vehicle manufactured by Oshkosh Corporation and currently used by several militaries around the world, most notably, the U.S. Army, for heavy logistic transport. Unlike the U.S. Army version though, the HEMTT Marcus and his team are riding in would actually be based on the 10x10 Oshkosh vehicle currently used by the U.S. Marine Corps, called the **L** ogistic **V** ehicle **S** ystem **R** eplacement, or LVSR. I just decided to stick with the name “HEMTT” because honestly, to me, it sounds cooler than “LVSR.”

 **AIT** : **A** dvance **I** ndividual **T** raining. In the U.S. Army, this is the place you go to after you graduate from Basic Combat Training (BCT) but before you get assigned to your first duty station. So, the way it works is basic is where you go to learn how to be a _soldier_ , whereas AIT is where you go to learn how to do your _job_. For example, if you are a quartermaster, this is where you would learn all about logistics; a truck driver, how to maintain and drive military trucks, etc. Note: some combat arm jobs (infantry, combat engineer, cavalry scout, tanker, and oddly enough, military police) in the U.S. Army combine both BCT and AIT together to form one shortened training session call One Station Unit Training (OSUT). It’s supposed to be a lot faster, yet more intense; more motivating because you have the same classmates throughout the entire course, and a bit cheaper because you stay with the same instructors at the same location as you first started, meaning the Army isn’t constantly shuffling people around.


	5. Strike Back

**UNSC _Trenchard_ , Somewhere in Slipspace**   
**May 6, 2545**   
**0850**

**Zelda**

_"Attention all call signs: we are T-minus thirty seconds to re-emergence to real space."_

Zelda excitedly sat up in his seat. He and the rest of the squadron had been sitting idly in their Broadswords for the last fifteen-some minutes and it was beginning to wear on him. It was always surprising to him, given how large his Broadsword was, how little room there actually was in the cockpit. So any extended amount of time spent sitting in there, not doing anything, was usually enough to drive him crazy.

 _"Alright Omega Flight, you heard the music,"_ Bellum announced over SQUADCOM as a light over the hangar doors turned red. _"Stay close to your partners and get ready to dance. You all should know by now what we're gunning for, so let's get out there and get it done."_

Zelda absentmindedly nodded his head as he prepped his landing gear to release the moment the hangar doors opened. Apparently there was a crippled Covenant destroyer out there that was just begging to be destroyed. It had positioned itself in a fairly dense debris field which, while preventing the UNSC from destroying it with long-range indirect strikes, allowed for plenty of avenues for small, one man fighters to get in close and finish the job. Furthermore, according to reports, half the destroyer’s weapons had been destroyed, including ninety percent of its point defense guns.

It was almost a shame, really, how easy this mission was going to be. Zelda had been hoping for more of a challenge. But then again, blowing away Covenant was always fun, so he would take what he got.

 _"T-minus ten seconds,"_ the announcement came over their headsets. _"Nine. Eight. Seven. Six. Five. Four. Three. Two. One… **Mark**."_

Zelda could feel the entire carrier shudder as it dropped out of slipspace and back into real-space. At the same time, Zelda watched as the hangar bay doors open up all the way before the light turned green and the controller tower immediately began saying, _"All squadrons: launch, launch, launch."_

Zelda punched the button that released his magnetic clamps and immediately floored it. He rocketed away from the ship until he was about half a klick away, before conducting a series of acrobatic maneuvers. This, this is what he loved about being a fighter pilot. Not necessarily the speed or the bragging right - though admittedly both were very nice - but the absolute freedom to do pretty much whatever he liked. He was his own man, in control of his own destiny.

For the most part.

 _"Omega-6, get your ass back here right now,"_ Bellum snapped at him over the radio.

Zelda smirked to himself before executing a flawless roll-off-the-top turn. Throwing himself into a barrel roll, he punched his right side thrusters and spun around, drifting into position behind Odessa's fighter. "Sorry boss," Zelda said, completely unapologetic. "Just stretching my wings."

He heard Odessa snort over the radio.

 _"Now that Omega-6 is done wasting fuel,"_ Bellum said, somewhat sardonically, _"everyone form up on me. We need to fall into formation with the rest of_ Trenchard's _fighter squadrons."_

Zelda scoffed, but nevertheless did as he was ordered. He followed Bellum as she led the squadron around to the top of the _Trenchard_ where the nearly two hundred and ten fighters that made up the carrier's fighter compliment were gathered, as well as all the other fighter squadrons from Actium's surface the _Trenchard_ had managed to pick up before leaving. It was honestly an impressive sight, seeing all those Broadsword and Wombat fighters gathered in one area.

 _“Alright Omega Flight, fall into formation,”_ Bellum commanded. _“Next step is to rendezvous with the fighter squadrons from the_ Pégoud, _so follow me."_

Zelda was about to point out that they didn’t need a fly by fly from Bellum as this wasn’t the first time they had done this, when, in a rare flash of insight – at least for him – it suddenly occurred to him that perhaps Bellum was pretty nervous, with this not only being her first time leading the squadron, but also the first time she was leading the squadron into _battle_. He decided to play nice for once and give her a break by keeping his commentary to himself.

Without much talking, the entire formation of Broadswords and Wombats broke away from the _Trenchard's_ orbit and headed in the direction where the _Pégoud_ had emerged from slipspace. A massive chunk of metal was all that stood between them and the _Pégoud's_ fighters. Flying around the giant floating debris, Zelda and his squadron emerged from around it to see -

 _"Um, this might be a stupid question but: where’s the rest of the task force?"_ Zelda heard Betros politely ask over the radio.

Under normal circumstances, Zelda might have cracked some joke about Betros being a puss for being so polite. But truth be told, Zelda was having a hard time comprehending just exactly what he was seeing: there were no UNSC ships present at all on the other side. The _Pégoud_ , the Navy frigates that were supposed to have accompanied them, even the _Trenchard's_ own Longsword gunship escorts. None of them were here. In fact, aside from the fighters that had arrived with the _Trenchard_ , there were no friendlies within a hundred kilometer radius.

"Where the fuck are the rest of our ships?" Zelda demanded to know as he checked his air radar. “Am I crazy, or didn’t we leave with a fucking armada? Where the hell did they all go?"

 _"I have no idea,"_ Bellum admitted, sounding worried.

 _"Hang on, I got them!"_ Odessa exclaimed. _"Zoom out your air radar. Friendly IFFs, about fifty thousand klicks away, direction three seven five."_

 _"What… what are they doing all the way out there?"_ Betros nervously asked.

 _"Fucking slipspace jumps,"_ Bellum replied, sounding exasperated. _"We must have… yeah, okay, C2 has just confirmed it: we missed the damn emergence point by at least twenty-five thousand kilometers."_

_"I thought we were locked onto a… whatchamacallit, a slipspace guidance beacon?”_

_"Yeah, which is why it’s twenty-five thousand klicks, not twenty-five million klicks. Or inside an asteroid. We got close but, even with beacons, our slipspace engines still aren't that accurate,_ " Bellum explained with a sigh. _"The real question is, which direction did we fall short: did we emerge closer to the target, or further away?"_

"We must have dropped out of slipspace further away because I don't see -"

Zelda's next words were caught in throat when his radar abruptly lit up with hundreds of red dots. Nearly ten thousand kilometers away, an asteroid had shifted orbit, revealing their target, surrounded by two very intact _CRS_ -class light cruisers, as well as over two hundred Covenant fighters, all of which immediately began heading in their direction.

 _"Ah shit,"_ Zelda heard Odessa sigh.

 _"CONTACT!"_ someone else yelled.

_"Attention! Incoming enemy bandits bearing seven zero six one three three! Count, two hundred plus fighters and three warships!"_

_"Well, that ain't good,"_ someone glibly noted.

"No shit," Zelda muttered to himself.

 _"What are we doing? Falling back to the_ Trenchard?"

 _"Too late for that. Look! The_ Trenchard _is spinning up her main thrusters! She's falling back!"_ another person reported.

Zelda glanced at his rear scopes and, sure enough, the _Trenchard_ was pushing its way further into the debris field, towards Tenedos proper and away from the incoming Covenant. The sight didn't really surprise him as carriers were only lightly equipped with self-defense turrets. Their primary defense came from their onboard fighter compliment, as well as their escorts.

But if none were around...

 _"Crap crap crap! Major, what are we doing?"_ Betros could be heard asking.

Zelda couldn't help but laugh. "What do we do? We grab our ankles and bend over cause we're about to get fucked."

He had intended for his comments to be a joke, but evidentially someone thought there was more truth than jest to that statement because even as he spoke, a number of red zones suddenly appeared on his HUD.

 _“Alright, Omega Flight, listen up!"_ Bellum snapped, cutting through the chatter. _"New objective: forget about that destroyer, we've got to defend the_ Trenchard! _The rest of the task force is making their way towards us at max burn, but until friendlies can arrive, we’ve got to keep those fighters away from our ship! If the_ Trenchard _goes down, then we're stuck out here. See all those red zones on our HUD? Stay out of them unless you want to get hit by gunfire from the_ Trenchard _otherwise, everybody, spread out!"_

Even as she spoke, Odessa abruptly peeled away and Zelda hastily maneuvered to follow him. They moved away from the rest of the squadron so that they had a bit of room to maneuver.

 _"Arm all weapons and prepare for a dogfight,"_ Bellum ordered. _"We're going straight in, and it's going to get messy."_

_"We're not engaging with missiles?"_

_"Can't get a proper lock at this range because of Covenant ECM and even if we could, there's too much stuff in the way. We need to get closer."_

Zelda felt a grin spread across his face as he pushed down on his throttle and felt his engines respond in kind. "Now this is where the fun begins."

 _"You and I have very different ideas as to what constitutes as fun, you know,"_ he heard Odessa reply. He hadn't realize he had said that last part out loud.

 _"Uh, I suppose now would be a bad time to ask for some tips on how to deal with these guys?"_ Betros asked over TEAMCOM, sounding nervous.

"Tips? Yeah, don't die," Zelda sarcastically pointed out.

 _"Zelda, shut up,"_ Bellum snapped. _"Betros, stay close to me, but not too close you can't maneuver. It's going to get really tight in certain places. Whatever you do, don't try to solo these fuckers because you will get swarmed."_

 _"Yeah, and if you happen to get behind one of those big fighters, the Seraphs, whatever you do, don't stop shooting until you see it blow up. Between their shields and their armor, those things are like MBTs: they can take a surprisingly insane amount of damage and still keep flying,"_ Odessa added.

With everyone else giving advice, Zelda decided to add his two cents. "Your big problem is going to be Banshees, Betros," he warned. "There's a lot more of them, and they're all over the place, and you’re going to be tempted to try and dogfight them: don't. Because our Broadswords aren't dedicated space fighters, we lack some of the maneuvering thrusters required to pull off some truly epic maneuvers needed to take these guys out. A Banshee has no such restrictions and will out turn and out maneuver you every time." Zelda paused. "Unless you're a master ace pilot like me."

He heard the rest of the squadron let out a derisive snort, which he ignored.

"One weakness Banshees have is their weak armor and slow acceleration – at least compared to us - so all you really got to do is zoom in, hit them with a burst from your 35mil, and keep moving. Got it?"

 _"Got it,"_ Betros replied.

 _"Good. Above all, like Zelda helpfully advised, try not to die,"_ Bellum told him. _"In fact, consider that a blanket order: none of you have permission to die today."_

Zelda laughed. "You don't have to worry about that boss: that's not on the books for me!"

 _"Right,"_ Bellum said, sounding unimpressed. _"Good luck everybody."_

The radio went silent.

Zelda glanced at his HUD. From the moment the Covenant had appeared on his scopes, his targeting computer had been compiling data non-stop, calculating firing solutions and other tactical data, to determine the most effective range to engage, which it displayed as a countdown timer in the top left hand corner of his HUD. They were twenty seconds away. Good. Let them come. Zelda had a fever and the only prescription was more dead Covenant.

Ten seconds.

His HUD highlighted a trio of Banshees closest to his position and he quickly armed two Medusa missiles and dropped his crosshairs over one of them, obtaining a lock. Already, there was an orange circle around one of them, indicating Odessa's lock. Behind his oxygen mask, Zelda licked his lips out of nervous habit.

Three seconds.

Abruptly the Covenant open fired! The entire Covenant line just opened up, sending a wall of plasma in their direction.

Zelda felt his eyes involuntarily widen as the Banshees sent three fuel rod cannon shells in his direction, but he ruthlessly suppressed the urge to panic. With an understanding born out of countless hours of flight time together, both Odessa and Zelda non-verbally agreed to wait until the last minute before punching their thrusters and throwing their fighters to the side behind a nearby asteroid.

The fuel rod cannons arched in their direction as they began track them, but weren't able to turn fast enough and slammed into the asteroid, which exploded into a thousand fragments. A _TOCK TOCK_ noise, like hail hitting a tin roof, filled Zelda's ears as his Broadsword was bombarded by these fragments, but they weren't enough to distract him from reacquiring his lock.

_“ALL PILOTS: ENGAGE!”_

"Fox one!" he yelled into the radio and pulled the trigger.

Two missiles, one from each wing, immediately launched off their racks and sped towards the Banshee, leaving a visible white contrail in their wake. The Banshee pilot immediately threw himself into a roll, while at the same time emitting a visible pulse which caused the incoming Medusas to lose their lock and miss. But Zelda had predicted something like that would have happened and had already followed up with another two missiles. The missiles slammed into the Banshee, which disappeared in a short but violent explosion.

"Ha!" Zelda triumphantly crowed. "I got one! Planted two missiles up his fucking ass!"

 _"Great. Is it over then?"_ Odessa distractedly replied.

Zelda winced as a plasma bolt splashed against his armored cockpit, but fortunately doing no damage. "Um, no?"

_"Then shut up and keep flying!"_

Zelda grinned. Odessa always got a bit bitchy when fighting.

His HUD let out a loud shrill, indicating an incoming projectile.

"Chaff!" Zelda spat out while at the same time, throwing himself into an aileron roll. The fuel rod cannon came streaking in, just missing his left wing as it arched at the last second towards his decoys and exploded behind him.

 _"Banshee, left flank!"_ Odessa yelled and Zelda glanced to his left to see a Banshee, plasma cannons blazing, coming straight at him.

"5, dive!" Zelda barked even as he banked then yanked back on his stick and began to climb.

Odessa and Zelda quickly crossed paths to confuse the Banshee, and Zelda glanced up in time to see plasma shooting by in the space that had formed between them, missing his Broadsword by a meter or so, followed by the Banshee itself. Zelda moved to follow the Banshee, but then a trio of Wombats passed by in front of them, pursued by two Seraphs. Obviously, there were no pilots in the Wombats so it was no tragic loss if the three of them were destroyed, but the chance to kill a couple of Seraphs was too good for Zelda to pass up, so he banked to pursue them instead.

 _"6, focus fire on the one on the right,"_ Odessa ordered. _"I'll burn out his countermeasures with AAMs, you take out his shields, then we both follow up with guns."_

"Got it," Zelda said even as the Seraphs fired and one of the Wombats disintegrated.

He watched as an orange circle began to pass over the Seraph, but at that point the Covenant were aware of their presence and were beginning to evade, breaking off from their pursuit of the Wombats. Zelda could see Odessa struggling to maintain a lock.

"Anytime now, sweetheart," Zelda said impatiently.

_"Shut up!"_

Odessa fired a spread of five missiles. The first two immediately veered off course as their targeting computers were jammed by the Seraph. The third one went flying off to who knows where, following a series of decoys. The last two managed to get close, but were then destroyed by the Seraph's hard-kill APS.

 _"Shoot it!"_ Odessa demanded, but Zelda had already fired four missiles. He hadn't bothered wasting time by trying to obtain a lock, so the first two missed entirely, but the second two slammed home, causing a blue bubble to appear then disappear just as quickly as the missiles exploded.

"Guns, AP!" Zelda barked, then laid into the trigger. 

Chunks of armor began flying off the Seraph as the 35mil armored piercing shells ripped into it, and the Seraph began trailing smoke. But before Odessa or Zelda could finish it, the Seraph's wing mate banked to the right, placing himself between his damaged friend and the Broadswords' guns. The new Seraph's shields lit up, stopping all the gunfire cold.

"That's not going to help very much," Zelda taunted, then banked to the left to go wide in an attempt to shoot around the undamaged Seraph. The undamaged Seraph reflexively moved to intercept, but in that moment, the pilot had forgotten there were _two_ Broadswords chasing them. In the split second the target was clear, Odessa had fired.

A Medusa slammed into the damaged Seraph, blowing off one of its articulating tails. Blue flames began shooting out of the rear, but unsurprisingly, the Seraph continued flying. The undamaged Seraph quickly began juking back and forth in front of them, trying to block both Odessa and Zelda, but he wasn't fast enough and Zelda was able to plant another two Medusas into the crippled Seraph. Annoyingly, the Seraph wasn’t destroyed and instead, continued to fly.

"Goddamn, fucking die already," Zelda spat, firing another missile which was intercepted by the other Seraph.

 _"6, stop wasting ordnance and break off,"_ Odessa barked. _"I don't think they see that meteoroid in front of them."_

"Fuck," Zelda swore. He really wanted that kill, but he nevertheless did as he was ordered.

The split-lips flying the Seraphs must have been too busy searching for where Zelda was going because they didn't even try to stop or evade the meteoroid. The crippled Seraph slammed into the rock at high speeds and exploded while the second flew right into the debris and disappeared. It didn't seem likely he would have survived that, but Zelda went ahead and put a couple of missiles into the mess, just for good measure.

"Hey, that still counts as my kill, right?" he asked Odessa as they headed to where the heaviest fighting seemed to be taking place.

_"That **hardly** seems important right now."_

"Maybe to you," Zelda petulantly replied. "But I did most of the hard work; I should get at least partial credit for those two."

Before Odessa could respond, a voice cut through all the noise on the radio.

 _"This is_ Trenchard _to all call signs! A squadron of Banshees have broken through our fighter screen and are headed for the_ Trenchard! _All available fighters, move to intercept! I say again, all available fighters needed at the_ Trenchard, _over!"_

 _"This is Omega-5 and 6,"_ Odessa smoothly said over the radio. _"We're en route, over."_

 _"Copy that Omega! Hurry!_ Trenchard, _out!"_

Without saying another word, Odessa and Zelda punched in their afterburners and headed straight to the last known location of the _Trenchard_ , linking up with a flight of Wombats that seemed to be headed in the same direction.

"Hey, you see these guys anywhere?" Zelda asked, glancing at his radar then looking around outside. "You'd think a kilometer long ship wouldn't be that hard to spot, even in this shit."

_"Should be able to see it around this next meteoroid."_

They sped around the meteoroid and there, several dozen klicks in the distance, was the _Trenchard_. The ship was making its way through the field toward Tenedos where, Zelda could only presume, they could receive support fire from the other half of JTF Omaha. For now though, the entire ship was ablaze with anti-aircraft fire; missile contrails, 50mm tracers, and chaff was getting thrown around in all directions. Most of the fire was directed upwards, towards the edge of the field where Zelda spotted a squadron of Banshees darting between the rocks. In this area, Tenedos' rings were only five klicks wide so by the looks of it, the Banshees had gone up and out into open space where they could race at full speed to catch up to the _Trenchard_ without worrying about crashing into anything.

"Banshees, up high, top of the field!" Zelda warned. "Must be the squadron the control tower was talking about!"

 _"That's funny,"_ Odessa commented. _"I was about to say the same thing, only, I was going to point out they were below the field."_

"What?"

Zelda looked around and when he couldn't see what Odessa was talking about, he inverted his fighter. Sure enough, there was a second squadron of Banshees approaching the _Trenchard_ from below.

 _"Huh,"_ Odessa commented. _"You know, I don't think the_ Trenchard _has spotted that squadron; they're not firing on them."_

"Good," Zelda grunted. "More kills for us. See if you can't get these Wombats to deal with that squadron up there, free us up to deal with the guys down there."

 _"What the fuck? How do I even talk to an A.I. piloted plane? What do I even refer to these guys as?"_ Odessa complained.

"I don't know, I don't speak in ones and zeros. Try calling them by their plane number."

Zelda watched as Odessa climbed until he was parallel to one of the Wombats.

 _"Echo Tango four one six,"_ Zelda heard him call out into the radio. _"Do you copy?"_

_"Affirmative, Omega-5."_

Zelda involuntarily shivered as a robotic voice filled his headset. He always hated the voice of dumb AIs, they were so emotionless and cold. It was kind of creepy.

 _"Hey! You focus on that squadron the_ Trenchard _is shooting at! We're going after the ones down below, you copy?"_

The was a moment of silence and Zelda could almost hear the gears turning on the Wombat as it swiveled its camera around to see what Odessa was talking about.

 _"Affirmative, Omega-5,"_ the AI finally said, and the flight of Wombats quickly pulled away.

"Fucking A.I.s," Zelda muttered.

_"Forget about them. Follow me in 6, I'm thinking we give these guys the one-two punch. I'll go in, draw their attention, you follow up and taken them out. You with me?"_

"Yeah, just waiting on you."

_"Good. On my mark... mark!"_

Odessa immediately dove straight down. Zelda counted up to three in his head, then quickly followed suit.

Bursting out of the field, Zelda nearly flew into the Banshee wreckage Odessa had left behind in his wake, only missing it at the last second when he reflexively jerked to the left. Recovering, Zelda began searching for targets. He was behind about a dozen Covenant Banshees, all chasing and shooting at one Broadsword that was flying in front of them: Odessa. They hadn't spotted Zelda yet, but he knew that could change at any second so he hastily passed his crosshairs over every single Banshee, armed a handful of missiles, and fired.

_WOOSHWOOSHWOOSH!!!_

A dozen missiles launched from Zelda's bomb bay and wings, each Medusa hunting its own individual Banshee. The Covenant pilots began to react but for most of them, it was simply too late. It was like watching fireworks on Unification Day. Instantly, nine blue fireballs lit up the area.

But Zelda wasn't done yet. Zipping behind one of the survivors, Zelda began matching the split-lips' every move until his crosshairs turned red.

"Guns, HE!" Zelda commanded, then pulled the trigger.

Zelda could see white flashes as each 35mm shells exploded upon impact. The Banshee took maybe six hits before the pilot ejected, his plane exploded underneath him. Unfortunately for the Elite, his ejection put him right in Zelda's path. Zelda didn't even try to dodge.

_SPLAT!_

Zelda could just barely make out the sound of something soft hitting his hull and he grinned. Maybe when Marshmallow returned, Zelda could talk his squadron commander into letting him keep that as his nose art.

In the meantime, the remaining two Banshees broke away from Odessa and began circling back to the asteroid ring where the tight quarters would give their planes' agility and maneuverability the advantage.

"Oh, no you don't," Zelda hissed. "I didn't say you could leave."

He was beginning to line up his shot when suddenly, both Banshees flipped their aircraft backwards in a somersault. As Zelda whipped by underneath, he looked up in astonishment as both Banshees passed by overhead, mere meters from his cockpit. Then the Banshees were behind him and suddenly, the dynamic had changed: instead of the hunter, Zelda was now the hunted.

_"Zelda, you got two on your tail!"_

"No shit!" Zelda yelled as the space around him exploded with plasma fire. Under normal circumstances, Zelda would have just punched his afterburners and run away, but they had reentered Tenedos' rings, and Zelda needed his maneuvering thrusters to avoid crashing into an asteroid.

 _"Hang on Six, I'm coming!"_ Odessa yelled but glancing at his radar, Zelda knew he would be atomized long before Odessa could acquire a lock. If he was going to get out of this, Zelda needed to save himself.

"Don't worry, I got this," Zelda said as confidently as he could.

"At least I think I do," he muttered more quietly to himself.

Dodging a fuel rod cannon, Zelda quickly prepped his engines.

"Okay my dudes," Zelda said out loud as soon as he was ready. "Okay. You wanna play rough? Okay! Say hello to my little friend!"

At that, Zelda shunted all his power from his rearward thrusters to the maneuvering thrusters on the underside of his plane, causing it to do a backflip, similar to what the Banshees had to him only moments ago. But because he was in space and he hadn't bothered canceling out his forward motion, Zelda found himself flying _backwards_.

Without bothering to wait for a lock, Zelda started lobbing missiles as soon as he saw the Banshees appear in his HUD. He got lucky with his first missiles, clipping the left gravity pod on one of the Banshees and sending it spiraling out of control and into a nearby meteoroid. The other though, proved to be a far more difficult target as he actually began shooting down Zelda's incoming missiles. Zelda was about to switch to guns when the Banshee abruptly broke away, pursued by a Medusa missile. Seconds later, there was violent blue explosion.

_"Zelda, watch out! Meteoroid. Meteoroid! METEOROID!"_

Zelda glanced behind him and swore. He was on a collision course with a fairly large meteoroid.

"Full power, main engine!" Zelda yelled, and he could feel his Broadsword responding. His main engines roared to life and he could feel himself slowing down, but not fast enough. He had been going way too fast and he was just too close to the meteoroid. There was no doubt: he was going to hit.

 _"LINK!_ "

"Ah fuck!" Zelda yelped, then did the first thing that came to mind: arming two missiles, he ejected them from his racks on the top of his wings, counted up to two in his head, and then remotely set them off.

**_KABOOM!_ **

As there was no atmosphere in space, Zelda couldn’t actually hear the explosion as the missiles detonated, but it didn’t matter as his brain automatically filled in the gap. Shrapnel sprayed the topside and cockpit of his Broadsword, one of which hit hard enough to leave a crack in the outer layer of his windshield, but the explosion was just enough to push his Broadsword out of the way of the meteoroid. Zelda nearly pissed himself when he saw the lumpy surface of the asteroid pass within _millimeters_ of his canopy. Then he was clear, and moving slow enough to reorient himself.

"5, what you yelling for? Don't you know I gots this?" Zelda arrogantly said as best he could, glad Odessa couldn't see his entire body trembling, which would have revealed the lie for what it was.

 _"You know, one of these days I'm going to die,"_ Odessa conversationally began. _"But it's not going to be because I got shot down or something silly like that. No, it's going to be because of ALL THE FUCKING HEARTATTACKS YOU GIVE ME!"_

"That's ‘cause you're too high strung Five. You need to get laid," Zelda told him with a nod, then slyly added, "Maybe we can find you another Odessan 'girl.'"

_"Whoa, okay, hold up. I told you we don’t talk about that."_

Zelda laughed, feeling the relief of actually being alive wash over him.

_“Omegas-5 and 6, what’s your twenty?”_

_“We’re in sector sixteen, heading back up to thirty-three,”_ Odessa responded, all levity gone from his voice in an instant.

_“Negative, stay where you are! I’ve got fighters coming out of my ass! My right thrusters are bent… I can’t shake ‘em! Need backup, ASAP!”_

_“Copy, we’re on our way! 6, you got eyes on?”_

“Negative, searching now,” Zelda reported as he glanced around the area. “Wait – I got visual! Sector thirty seven, bearing four seven three heading right towards us!”

_“Yeah, okay, I got them. Well, that doesn’t look good. How do you want to handle this?”_

Zelda studied the scene on his radar. Bellum and Betros were weaving in and out between the meteoroids, being pursued by five Banshees and one Seraph. Betros’ Broadsword appeared to be fully intact, but Bellum’s bird was trailing a lot of black smoke. The only reason the two of them had survived this long was because the Covenant had no coordination and kept getting in each other's way, but it was only a matter of time.

“That Seraph is the biggest threat,” Zelda announced. “Got to take him out before we do anything else.”

_“Yeah, I know. Any ideas?”_

Zelda shrugged, even though he knew Odessa couldn’t see him. “I say we fly straight at him, head on, see who blinks first. Might be able to get those Banshees to split.”

_“Pretty dangerous.”_

“Meh. What’s life without a bit of danger every now and then?”

_“… Why do I let you talk me into doing these things? Okay, well, let’s not stand on ceremony then. Let’s do this! Follow me in!”_

Zelda grinned, then punched in his afterburners and fell in line behind Odessa. As they sped through the field, Zelda could hear Odessa over the radio.

_“Omega-Leader, Omega-2, this is 5 and 6, we’re coming straight at you, head on. On my mark, I want you to crisscross, then split up off in opposite directions. We’ll take out the threat on your six, then rendezvous in Sector Twelve, copy?”_

_“Copy that, Omega-5,”_ came Betros’ immediate and nervous response.

 _“I hope you idiots know what you’re doing,”_ was all Bellum said.

“Oh, ye of little faith,” Zelda muttered to himself as he began arming weapons.

In the distance, he could see Bellum and Betros, plasma exploding all around them, flying straight towards them. Zelda waited for Odessa to give the signal, but he had better nerves than Zelda gave him credit for, because he waited until they were almost a klick away before yelling, _“MARK!”_

Betros and Bellum immediately banked, crossing paths before splitting in opposite directions. Their Covenant pursuers started to react, but they were just a bit too slow. Dropping his crosshairs over the Seraph, Zelda opened up with everything he had.

“Fox one! Guns, AP!”

Zelda fired a spread of five missiles, then laid into the trigger for his main cannon. Just ahead and slightly above him, Zelda could see Odessa following suit.

The Banshees scattered as the space directly in front of the Seraph lit up with explosions as his APS went to work, but the unexpected nature of the attack meant the Seraph’s countermeasures couldn’t intercept all the missiles, and his shields quickly lit up as some of the Medusas managed to slip through his defensive screen, sapping them of their strength. Zelda and Odessa’s combined cannon fire finally disabled them. Despite this, the Seraph continued to barrel forward, without a care in the world, putting himself in a direct collision course with Zelda.

_‘WARNING, COLLISION ALERT!’_

“Shut up!” Zelda snapped at his computer, eyes locked on the incoming Seraph. He noticed while he could have, the Seraph pilot wasn’t firing his plasma cannons and instead, was focused on flying straight at Zelda, clearly intent on ramming him. At that point, Zelda knew exactly what he had to do.

_“6, break off! That Seraph will be able to survive that collision, you won’t!”_

“Shut up, I know what I’m doing!” Zelda yelled as he maintained his course.

_“Do you **really** Zelda? Do you!?”_

“Come on you fucker, come on! You want to play? Let’s play!” Zelda yelled as the Seraph quickly began filling his windshield.

_“Dammit, Zelda, not again!”_

“GAH!” Zelda screamed as the two ships rocketed towards each other.

Mere seconds before impact, Zelda yanked his stick to the right, throwing himself out of the way of the Seraph. But not before arming two missiles and ejecting them right into the Seraph’s path. At that distance, the Seraph pilot had absolutely no warning, and slammed right into the Medusas. Zelda could see the two missiles impacting the area where the cockpit would have been located on the Seraph before detonating.

The Seraph erupted into one giant blue fireball.

“Seraph down,” Zelda reported as calmly as he could.

_“Fuck! Alright, we’ll talk about this later 6, but in the meantime, we still got those Banshees to deal with. Omega-6, you go support Omega-2, I’m going to go cover Leader, copy?”_

“Copy! Omega-6 en route!”

Zelda quickly broke away from Odessa. According to his radar, Betros wasn’t too far away, although he still had two Banshees on his tail.

“Omega-2, this is 6,” Zelda said. “Betros, I tally two bandits on your tail. I’m coming in to support, hang in there!”

 _“6, please hurry up! I can’t shake these guys!_ ” Betros pleaded, and Zelda could clearly hear the fear in his voice.

“2, are you hit?”

_“What? No, not yet!”_

“Then calm the fuck down,” Zelda ordered. “Break contact, head out to open space. If your bird is intact, you should be able to outrun these guys.”

_“No, negative! I can’t go out to open space, I’m bingo on chaff!”_

“How the fuck are you out already?” Zelda muttered to himself. More loudly, he said, “Shit. Alright, hold on!”

Zipping around a large meteoroid, Zelda finally came within visual contact of Betros. He was flying as fast as he could through the field and while he had managed to avoid getting hit, Zelda knew it was only a matter of time: both Banshees were throwing plasma all over the place like it was going out of style. Plasma bolts and fuel rod cannons were exploding all around Betros, shattering meteoroids and sending fragments in all directions, making the area a bit cluttered to fly through, as well as compromising Zelda’s ability to obtain a lock.

“Ah great, we’re going to have do this the old fashion way,” Zelda told himself.

Putting his Broadsword into a dive, Zelda emerged right behind the two Banshees. Quickly, before the split-lips could react to his presence, Zelda put his crosshairs over the leftmost Banshee.

“Guns, HE!” Zelda barked and pulled the trigger.

The Banshee he was targeting coincidently moved just as Zelda fired, so his first dozen shells missed entirely. Zelda quickly adjusted his aim and his next burst was dead on. The Banshee didn’t exploded, it just sort of… fell apart. Dodging the rapidly expanding debris cloud, Zelda placed his crosshairs over the second Banshee and pulled the trigger.

_BEEP BEEP BEEP._

“What the -”

Zelda glanced at his instrument panel to see what the problem was. “Out of ammo?” he exclaimed. “How the fuck - !?”

_“Zelda, I still got one on my tail!”_

“Fuck!”

Switching back to missiles, Zelda dropped back a little so he wouldn’t get damaged by the Medusa’s explosion. Then he began searching for a lock, but unfortunately the Banshee pilot was the best one Zelda had seen yet because he began evading and weaving, making it extremely difficult for Zelda to acquire a lock. All the while, the Banshee continued to rain plasma down on Betros.

“Come on you fucker, hold still for like half a second!” Zelda urged.

_“6, where are you!? I can’t lose this guy!”_

“Hang on. Hang on Betros! I’m working on it!”

 _“WORK FASTER! I’M TAKING HITS!”_ Betros screamed, sounding like he was on the verge of panicking.

“Just hang on for a few more - ”

The Banshee unexpectedly exploded as a missile came out of nowhere from above. Zelda looked up to see a couple of missile Wombats whipping past him in a dive. They were the ones that had taken out the Banshee.

“Fucking… kill stealers!” Zelda yelled after them out of habit though, truth be told, while he would never admit it out loud, he was kind of glad they did that because he was beginning to get worried Betros was going to get taken out before he could kill the Banshee.

Speaking of Betros…

“2, what’s your status?”

_“Christ. I think I pissed myself.”_

Zelda rolled his eyes. “No, 2, what’s the status of your bird?”

_“Oh, right. Um… minor damage to the armor, but I think I got hit in the fuel tank by some shrapnel. I’m down to twenty percent reserves.”_

“Right.”

Zelda zoomed in until he could see Betros’ bird. Sure enough, some sort of crystalized cloud was spraying out of a black hole in the underside of his Broadsword. “Omega-Leader, Omega-6. 2 is secured, but he’s got a fuel leak. He needs to RTB for repairs.”

_“Roger that 6. 2, you have a green light to return to base for repairs. 6, escort him in. 5, you’re with me; you’re my new wing mate.”_

“Copy.”

_“Copy.”_

“Betros, you lead, I’ll follow,” Zelda ordered. He glanced down at his radar to see where the Trenchard was presently located. “Turning to heading –”

**_EEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!!_ **

Zelda didn’t think, he just reacted. As soon as he heard his proximity alarm go off, Zelda threw his Broadsword into a barrel roll. Microseconds later, a massive blue plasma bolt passed through the space he was occupying moments ago. As Zelda struggled to recover, he watched in horror as the bolt slam into Betros’ Broadsword, ripping his entire left wing off, and throwing him into a spin.

“Holy shit!” Zelda screamed as flames began erupting from the gaping hole where Betros’ wing once was. “Omega-6 to Omega-Leader, Betros is hit! I say again, Betros is hit!”

Over the radio, Zelda could hear Betros screaming, _“Mayday mayday mayday! This is Omega-2, I’m hit, I’m hit!”_

“Betros, eject buddy, EJECT!”

_“No good! I can’t control it! I’m going in! I’m going in hard! AHHHHHHHHH!!!”_

Zelda could see Betros drifting away from formation before disappearing behind a meteoroid. He didn’t emerge on the other side.

“2, this is 6, do you copy?” Zelda frantically called over the radio. “Omega-6 to any Omega Flight, does anyone tally Omega-2?”

_“6, this is Leader! 2 is gone! You’ve got contact, high tonnage, closing in on your nine!”_

Zelda glanced over to his left. There, several hundred kilometers away, the two Covenant _CRS_ -class light cruisers that had greeted them when the _Trenchard_ first arrived had finally decided to join the battle, with their mission objective, the crippled destroyer, a few thousand klick behind them. Truth be told, Zelda had kind of forgot about all of them in the chaos, but now the warships were making their presence known by pushing their way through the asteroid field, shooting any UNSC aircraft that got too close. Even as he watched, one of the cruisers blew away an entire flight of Wombats using the same blue plasma bolts that had taken Betros out.

_“Omega-Leader to all UNSC aircraft! Fall back, I say again, fall back!”_

Zelda ignored her. At first, he thought there was something wrong with his Broadsword, as his entire body was trembling. But then the rage hit him. White hot fury began surging through his veins. Betros was a good kid. He was funny, polite, and willing to listen. He had a lot of promise, and Zelda had liked him. But now he was dead – 

\- and someone had to pay for that.

Zelda grabbed his control yoke. “Odessa, cover me. I’m going in!”

_“’Going in?’ Going in where? Hang on, you’re not about to do an attack run on that cruiser, are you? Zelda, fall back! You can’t hope to take on a ship that size by yourself!”_

Odessa's words washed over him, and while Zelda's rational side was bobbing his head in agreement as fast as he could, he was getting drowned out by Zelda's emotional side which was screaming 'KILLKILLKILLL!' at the top of his lungs. Almost as if he was on autopilot, Zelda banked and settled in for an attack run on the lead cruiser.

_"Omega-6, Omega-Leader, what the fuck are you doing? Get your ass back here, NOW!"_

Even if Zelda had been inclined to obey, he knew he couldn't. The moment he decided to attack, he was committed.

The space around him exploded with plasma fire as the Covenant sensors quickly picked up on his approach, but somehow none of them hit. It was like Zelda's hands had suddenly acquired a mind of their own, dodging plasma fire, evading behind asteroids when the fire became too thick, and throwing chaff in all directions to confuse any locks. The rational side of Zelda couldn't help but note this was some of Zelda's best flying ever.

Then suddenly, the barrage abruptly ceased, and Zelda was left with a clear path towards the cruiser's ventral plasma turrets. Up close, the cruiser was an even more impressive sight then it was from afar. The Covenant may have classified these ships as "cruisers," but in truth, they had about as much firepower and armor as the UNSC Navy's light battleships.

Fortunately, Zelda's arsenal included a missile that was capable of penetrating those ships.

Selecting one of his ASGM-10 anti-ship missiles, Zelda armed it and locked onto his target.

"Fox Three," he announced over the radio, his voice surprisingly calm. Then he pulled the trigger.

The doors to his bomb bay on the underside of his Broadsword popped open for a moment, long enough for the missile to get ejected from its rack. Then the missile's boosters kicked in, and Zelda watched as the missile rocket away. Surprisingly, none of the cruiser's countermeasures activated, and Zelda was able to watch the missile sped towards the plasma turrets -

\- and detonated harmlessly against a blue field of pure energy roughly fifteen meters above the cruiser's hull. 

It was at that point Zelda started to calm down and realized that maybe, _just maybe,_ he had bitten off more than he could chew.

"Zelda, get out of there!"

Zelda looked behind him. The only way he was able to even get this close to the cruiser without getting shot down was because of the numerous asteroids that had surrounded the cruiser, protecting Zelda from view. However, the sheer amount of fire the Covenant had sent his way had destroyed most, if not all those asteroids, leaving the area clear.

If Zelda were to try and retreat now, he would simply get swatted out of the sky. But he couldn't advance either: he didn't have nearly enough ordinance to disable the cruiser's shields and without that shield disabled, he wouldn't even be able to so much as scratch the paint on the cruiser. In short, he was fucked.

"Well. That's just great. Whose brilliant fucking idea was this again?" Zelda muttered to himself as he noticed a number of turrets start to swivel in his direction. "Now what?"

**_KABOOM!_ **

Zelda jerked in surprised as a magnetically accelerated cannon round slammed into the cruiser's shield from above, causing it to light up. Before anyone could react, another four slammed into the shield in quick succession, causing the energy field to fluctuate, before failing entirely.

"What the -" Zelda sputtered, looking up. There, just above the field, were the five Navy frigates that had originally accompanied them out here. They were sitting over the field, their bows pointed straight down, unloading on the cruisers.

"Finally!" Zelda exclaimed out loud, pumping his fist in triumph. "Where the fuck were you guys, taking the scenic route?"

He watched as nearly six dozen Archer missiles slam into the shield-less cruiser, which began to fall apart under the barrage. The second cruiser was just beginning to react, rotating around on its axis in order to bring its heaviest weapons to bear, but all the movement did was attract the Navy's attention and shortly, the second cruiser found itself under heavy fire. Meanwhile, an unknown voice sounded over the radio.

_"Delta Sierra two nine to all call signs: the Navy will deal with these cruisers. All fighters, proceed to the objective and execute the mission."_

In the distance, Zelda could see the crippled Covenant destroyer, desperately limping away but it couldn't go far: a few thousand kilometers beyond the destroyer, Zelda could see a series of green blimps appear on his radar representing the UNSC _Pégoud_ and her escorts. With the _Pégoud_ blocking the way, the destroyer had nowhere to run.

While the destroyer attempted to figure out its next move, the _Pégoud_ began launching fighters to engage, but Zelda could tell it would take several minutes before they came within range of the destroyer. Meanwhile behind him, the remaining fighters from the _Trenchard_ were in the process of getting reorganized, but it too would take them several minutes before they could begin their attack. Which meant at the current moment, Zelda found himself as the only fighter in position and ready to execute their objective.

Hm.

Rationally, Zelda knew he probably should wait for backup. While the destroyer’s point defenses had supposedly been disable, the ship’s main battery was still operational. And while heavy plasma beams and plasma torpedoes weren’t exactly designed to hit something as small as a one-man fighter, it wasn’t like they needed to score a direct hit to kill him.

Yet, at the same time, Zelda could still feel the rage burning within him, and he still had several ASGM-10 anti-ship missiles in his arsenal…

Zelda ignited his thrusters and began speeding towards the destroyer.

As he closed the distance, Zelda started studying the destroyer, looking for a weakness, for something that would hopefully amplify the damage caused by his ASGMs. He wasn’t entirely sure what had damaged the destroyer in the first place, but whatever it was had been powerful as the destroyer was missing its entire left nacelle, leaving a gaping hole in the ship’s hull. The entire area was awashed with radiation, scrambling his sensors, but Zelda’s targeting computer could faintly pick up a large concentration of energy emitting from one particular spot in breach. Good enough.

"This is for you Betros," Zelda announced out loud to his cockpit as he armed all of his remaining ASGMs. "Fox three."

He pulled the trigger.

All his remaining missiles quickly crossed the distance between him and ship, and Zelda could see them disappearing into the breach. Even on max zoom, Zelda only barely saw the flash as they detonated. He waited for any more signs his missiles actually did something, but nothing else happened.

Zelda shrugged. Truth be told, he wasn't all that surprised. While he had his hopes, he didn't _really_ think he was going to be able to take down a ship this size with only a handful of missiles. Oh well, he supposed he could let someone else get this kill.

He started to peel away when a series of flashes caught his attention. He turned back to see a number of sympathetic explosions going off on the destroyer's hull. The explosions were starting from the breach and were quickly working their way towards the bow, with each subsequent explosion being more powerful than the last. As Zelda watched, hanging on the edge of his seat, the explosions reached the bow where the Covenant's plasma beam emitter was located.

_**KABOOOMM!** _

The bow erupted in a giant flash of light! Large chunks of metal larger than his ship were hurtled in every direction, forcing Zelda to hurriedly jerk out of the way.

By the time Zelda was able to straighten himself, the giant fireball had already died down, allowing Zelda to conduct a proper BDA: the front of the destroyer had been completely obliterated, it's armor peeled back like a banana. Individual fires were burning all across the ship's hull with such intensity, even the vacuum of space was unable to immediately extinguish them, and all the run lights as well as the ship's engines had shut down. The ship continued to drift forward at the same speed, but it was clear no one was steering it as the ship began colliding with a number of asteroids that were obviously avoidable.

Yet despite all this, Zelda continued to watch with bated breath, waiting to see what the destroyer would do next, not quite believing his eyes.

 _"Actium Command? This is JTF Omaha,”_ Zelda heard someone report over the radio. _“Mission accomplished, target 1-Alpha is down, I say again, scratch one destroyer, over."_

"YEAHHH!" Zelda cheered, forgetting where he was for the moment and throwing his fist into the air, only to hit them against his canopy. "YEAHH! TAKE THAT YOU SORRY ASSES! HOW DO YOU LIKE THAT! WELCOME TO THE FUCKING AMBRACIA SYSTEM! WELCOME TO FIST OF HUMANITY! WHAT NOW CUNTS?"

_"Slipspace rupture detected."_

Zelda's cockpit was suddenly illuminated in a blue light and he looked up to see a huge slipspace portal open up over the entire field. Emerging from the portal was -

"Holy shittttt!" Zelda gasped. "Look at the size of that thing!

\- a **_massive_ **Covenant capital ship. The ship had to be at least twice as long as a _CSS_ -class battlecruiser and bristling with just as many weapons.

The ship shot out of the portal at high speeds towards the Navy's frigates, colliding with one of them, which promptly exploded however the impact didn't even cause the Covenant shields to _fluctuate_. The ship promptly opened up on the remaining frigates, engaging them with plasma cannons and disabling or crippling another two outright. The remaining frigates disappeared as they made a hasty retreat to slipspace.

But the Covenant warship wasn't done just yet. Zelda could see balls of purple flames streaming from somewhere in the center of the Covenant ship and speed towards the _Pégoud_. The _Pégoud_ fired her thrusters and began launching all sorts of decoys, but it was too late: the plasma torpedoes slammed into the helpless aircraft carrier, cutting the ship in half. Explosions immediately began rippling across the _Pégoud’s_ hull.

Then, just when Zelda thought things couldn't get any worse, he saw hundreds, if not thousands, of Banshees and Seraphs emerging from the bowels of the Covenant ship, half of which charged straight at the _Pégoud's_ fighters, the other half began charging straight at Zelda.

"Oh fuck!" Zelda yelped as he flipped his fighter around and began racing back towards his squadron, but he could tell it was going to be too late. Because of his reckless charge at the destroyer, the Covenant were now closer to him than he was to his squadron. The Covenant would be able to overtake him long before he could reach safety. The only way Zelda might make it was if he left this field and flew at max burn towards the _Trenchard_ , but he would need cover as doing so would leave him exposed to long range Covenant cannon fire.

"Omega-6 to any UNSC call signs in sector one two seven, I've got bandits closing on my six! I need immediate assistance!" Zelda desperately called over radio even though with that many Covenant fighters, it was doubtful anyone would respond. "Anyone copy, over!"

At first, he heard nothing. But then, Zelda noticed a large amount of green blimps appearing on his radar, flying right towards him. He felt his heart flutter. That couldn't be his squadron, could it?

As they drew closer, Zelda realized it wasn't his squadron but in fact, every single Wombat that had been assigned to the _Trenchard_ still left.

"Trenchard _Control Tower to all Broadswords!"_ Zelda heard over the radio. _"All pilots, fall back to the_ Trenchard! _Wombats will cover your retreat, but you got to get back to the_ Trenchard _**right now!** We're falling back to Actium and if you're not on board in the next thirty seconds, you **will** be left behind!"_

Zelda blanched. His Broadsword may have been equipped with all sorts of things, but a slipspace drive was not one of them. Attempting to fly back to Actium under his own power would take him at least thirty years, assuming he had enough fuel to do that (which he didn't) but even then he only had enough oxygen to last him five days, at most.

"Screw it!" Zelda yelled, then threw himself into a climb. Once he was clear of the field, he took off towards the _Trenchard_ , which was thankfully advancing towards him, picking up everyone else.

"They're not going to leave me behind, they're not going to leave me behind," Zelda chanted to himself as he worked on coaxing every ounce of speed from his bird. "They are not going to leave me behind!"

 _"Leader to Omega Flight, sound off as soon you're safe,"_ he heard Bellum demand.

_"This Omega-12, on board and safe!"_

_"Omega-20, I made it!"_

_"This is Omega-8, I'm aboard!"_

_“Omega-3: my bird is fucked but I’m here!”_

As what was left of his squadron continued to sound off, Zelda concentrated on flying as fast he could. As he flew, he was vaguely aware of someone reporting, _"Omega-5, on board,"_ and he felt a faint wave of relief, knowing Odessa had made it.

_"Omega-Leader, on board. Omega-6, what's your status?"_

"I'm working on it!" Zelda yelled. "I'm maybe fifteen seconds away! Tell those fuckers to keep those damn doors open!"

He glanced at his rear scopes to see how much time he had. The Wombats were dropping at an alarming rate, but they had managed to throw the Covenant formation into disarray, buying everyone a bit more time. He also saw at least a dozen Broadswords behind him, and he realized some of _Pégoud's_ fighters must have broken through the Covenant lines. With the _Pégoud_ having been destroyed, the _Trenchard_ was the only way they were going to make it home.

The sight of the _Pégoud’s_ fighters gave Zelda some hope. "Okay, I got some time," he told himself. "They're not going to leave all of us behind."

With that in mind, Zelda started thinking about how he was going to land his bird. Running some quick mental calculations, Zelda realized he was going too fast and wouldn't be able to slow down in time to do a vertical landing: he was going to have to use the runway.

" _Trenchard_ , this Omega-6," Zelda said over the radio as calmly as he could. "Be advised, my approach is no good; vertical landing is a no go. I say again, vertical landing is a no go. Request permission to use the emergency landing strip, over?"

 _"Yeah, yeah, fine!"_ came the frantic response. _"The right strip is cleared; just get in here!"_

_"Copy! You don’t need to tell me twice!"_

Zelda angled his bird towards the lit up bay doors at the back of the _Trenchard_. Lowering his landing gear, Zelda shut down his main engines and diverted all power to his forward thrusters to slow down, but even then, when he cross through the doors and into the ship, he was still moving far faster then what would be considered safe.

Dropping his tail hook, Zelda was able to snag one of the arresting cables draped across the floor, but even that wasn't enough to bring him to a stop. His Broadsword barreled down the runway into the overrun area, and Zelda gritted his teeth as his Broadsword began to roll over the arrestor bed, before crashing into the arrestor net at the very end.

The combination of all three devices was finally enough to bring him to a stop.

Without even stopping to catch his breath, Zelda quickly raised his tailhook and began working on moving his Broadsword out of the way so the others could land. He looked behind him to see how much time he had, only to see the bay doors closing behind him.

"What - Control Tower, Omega-6, hang on, we still got birds outside!" Zelda yelled over the radio.

_"Omega-6, we just came within weapon's range of the Covenant. If we don't leave now, we're not leaving at all."_

Even as he heard that, Zelda felt the _Trenchard_ shudder as the ship transitioned into slipspace. He stared in shock at the closed doors. He had a feeling he knew what the answer was going to be, but some part of him had to ask any way.

"Tower," he slowly began, "how many of Pégoud's fighters did we retrieve?"

Sure enough, Zelda's worst fears were confirmed: _"None."_

Zelda sat back in his seat. There had been over three thousand crewmembers aboard the _Pégoud_ , one hundred and fifty Broadswords, and who knows how many more fighters they had retrieved from Actium before embarking on this mission. Coupled with all the Navy losses, the losses from the _Trenchard_ , and Betros, this day was taking a heavy toll.

And to make things worse -

\- Zelda knew it was only the beginning.

**XXXXX**

**Heliopolis Station, High Orbit, Actium**

**Spaatz**

Spaatz stared at his screen, his back straight as a ramrod and his hands folded behind his back, as an entire second Covenant invasion fleet drop out of slipspace. Not only did this second force include that _ORS_ -class heavy cruiser that had annihilated JTF Omaha, but it also include **two more** _CCS_ -class battlecruisers, at least half a dozen more _CPV_ -class heavy destroyers, and a score of other support ships, bringing the number of Covenant warships in the system to thirty-seven. In terms of sheer numbers, the UNSC still outnumbered the Covenant a little over two to one counting the ODPs, but in terms of firepower, the Covenant were now unmatched.

"We were too slow," Spaatz muttered to himself.

"Pardon me, sir?"

Spaatz glanced over at Kanin. "Never mind. What were the results of JTF Omaha’s mission?”

“Both primary objectives were accomplished: target 1-Alpha was destroyed, and the UNSCs _Oberon_ , _Connery_ , and _Dalton_ were all successful recovered. The UNSCs _Titania_ and _Pierce_ were too heavily damaged to move, and were successfully scuttled. Secondary objectives: target 2-Bravo was destroyed, whereas 1-Bravo is being reported as probable by Omaha’s commander.”

“And our losses?”

“UNSC destroyers _Cassiel_ and _Zadkiel_ were destroyed in combat against 1 and 2-Bravo. Meanwhile, frigates UNSCs _Drake_ , _Bradford_ , and _Selby_ , as well as fleet carrier UNSC _Pégoud_ were all destroyed by the newly arrived _ORS_ -class heavy cruiser. All remaining ships of JTF Omaha were able to make it back to Actium intact.”

Spaatz numbly nodded in acknowledgement. His forces had managed to destroy four confirmed Covenant warships and one probable at the cost of eight ships from Battle Group Tenedos, two from Destroyer Squadron 29, and four from JTF Omaha for a ratio of two point eight of his ships for every one of theirs. According to the UNSC manual on space battles, that was about the expected average ratio a commander could hope to achieve against the Covenant. So in public, Spaatz would make sure to tell everyone - his men, the civilian press, and the families of those who died - what a great job everyone had done and how the sacrifice of all those men and women was well worth the cost.

And that they all died as heroes.

But in private... 

...Spaatz knew he was going to spend many sleepless nights, wondering how he could have done things differently, and more importantly, how he could have done things better.

“Pull all ships and assets back to Actium,” he finally commanded. “Now that the Covenant have secured their flanks and gotten reinforced, the next step they’re going to do is make a push for Actium. The Battle of Tenedos is over.”

“But now the Battle of Actium begins."

* * *

General Notes

Ships mentioned in this chapter:

 **UNSCs _Drake_ , _Bradford_ , and _Selby_** : these were all names of Royal Navy fifth-rate frigates from before 1660.

 **UNSC _Cassiel_** and _**Zadkiel**_ : for Destroyer Squadron 29, just as a theme, I had planned on naming all seven destroyers assigned to DS29 to be named (using variants of their names) after the seven archangels of Pseudo-Dionysius tradition (at least, according to Wikipedia.) The other ships in the squadron would have been: Gabrielle, Michelle (Michael), Raphaele (Raphael), Ariel (Uriel), and Sophiel (Jophiel.)


	6. Plans and Schemes

**Heliopolis Station, High Orbit, Actium**   
**May 6, 2545**   
**0922**

**Spaatz**

“Sir, emergency message from the _Excalibur_ : she's under heavy fire and requesting immediate aid!”

“Have the _Thuân Thiên_ and the _Dáinsleif_ immediately come about to lend support!”

“Working… not possible, sir, the captains of both ships report they're taking heavy fire from 3-Bravo and are unable to disengage at this time!”

“What about the _Salamis_?”

“Also heavily engaged, sir!”

“Do we have any ships available!?”

“Yes, sir: us! The _Kilkis_!”

Amarchih didn’t hesitate. “Captain Yirenkyi! The UNSC _Excalibur_ is under heavy fire and requesting immediate aid! Let's give it to them!”

“Aye, sir! Helm, left thirty degree rudder, line up the main batt with 5-Alpha! TAO, lock all secondary batteries onto target 9-Bravo! See if we can’t draw some of their fire! All batteries, fire as they bear!”

“Aye, sir!”

“Rounds away!”

“Missiles away!”

“Acala, inform the _Salamis_ and let them know we're moving! And give me an update on _Excalibur’s_ status!”

“She's taking heavy fire, sir! I’m reading multiple breaches across her hull, she’s venting atmosphere and her MAC is offline!”

“Are her engines still operational?”

“Checking… yes, sir!”

“Have Commander Weldeyns bring his ship about and head to sector one one seven, bearing two one five, where Astoria Squadron can cover them! Captain Yirenkyi, sitrep!”

“We've begun engagement, sir; no reaction from either of the Covenant ships!”

“Intensify forward firepower! There's no way those ships can ignore our presence for long!”

“We're already giving them all we got, sir, but those ships are acting like they’re out for blood and won’t be deterred!”

“Then get us in closer! Put us in a position where they can’t afford to ignore us!”

“Aye, sir! Helm, all engines ahead, two-thirds!

The entire battleship shuddered as her engines flared, launching the massive vessel forward. Meanwhile, she continued to unload on the two Covenant warships, firing volley after volley of Archer missiles. Explosions ripped through the void as the Covenant's point defense went to work, shooting down scores of missiles at a time, but as the _Kilkis_ began to close the distance, their point defenses slowly became overwhelmed, to the point where both ships could no longer ignore _Kilkis_ ' presence.

“Captain! Target 5-Alpha is breaking off her pursuit of _Excalibur_ and is coming about! She's- VAMPIRE, VAMPIRE, VAMPIRE! I tally three incoming plasma torpedoes bearing three one six!”

“Helm, hard right rudder, TAO launch chaff aft and starboard in conjunction with the turn! That's one Covenant ship we've got the attention, of what about the other? Sitrep on 9-Bravo!?”

“Still in pursuit, sir!”

“That won’t do! Helm, all engines ahead, full, TAO all batteries lock onto 9-Bravo and fire at will!”

“Sir, what about 5-Alpha?”

“Continue evasive maneuvers but ignore it for now! The _Excalibur_ can’t take much more hits but we can!”

“Aye, sir!”

Outside, the space between the two sides was growing crowded with crossfire as the _Kilkis_ continued to fire at the Covenant, only this time the Covenant were beginning to shoot back. Plasma bolts whipped by missiles headed in the opposite direction and in some cases, actually collided with them, creating miniature fireballs that existed for barely a second before they were snuffed out by the cold vacuum of space. All the while, the heavy weapons of both ships were lobbing projectiles the size of double-decker buses well in excess of the speed of sound.

“Captain, sir, we're getting a reading: 9-Bravo is altering course. She's breaking off pursuit of _Excalibur_ and she's coming about; she's headed straight for us! She's trying to outflank us!”

“Admiral, sir, message from the _Excalibur_ : she's free and clear!” Acala suddenly announced at the same time.

“Excellent! Have _Excalibur_ head over to Anchor 11 for immediate emergency repair! We're going to need every ship we can get our hands on in the coming days, so Commander Weldeyns has full authorization to do whatever he needs to get his ship back in working order!” Amarchih commanded. “Captain Yirenkyi! We have the full attention of the Covenant! _Make them regret it!”_

“With pleasure, sir! Alright everyone, you heard the Admiral! Helm, _shift your rudder!_ TAO, reprioritize targets: that destroyer is now our biggest problem. Lock all main batteries onto it and take it out!”

“Yessir! Main batt, load AP into all three guns and fire at will!”

The entire _Kilkis_ shook as she fired all three of her MACs simultaneously, with each gun launching a fifteen hundred metric ton depleted uranium shell at a little over thirty-five thousand kilometers per second. The three shells slammed into target 5-Alpha, a _CPV_ -class heavy destroyer that was almost identical in appearance to the one UNSC forces had destroyed over Tenedos. The impact of the three rounds literally knocked the ship off course, however by some miracle, the destroyer's shields managed to remain intact.

That is, at least, until the salvo of Archer missiles _Kilkis_ fired at them as a follow up slammed into them. There was a momentary blue flash as the destroyer's shields flare before they shattered like glass, allowing the next salvo of missiles _Kilkis_ sent her way to explode directly on her hull.

“5-Alpha's shields are down!”

“TAO, standby for a second salvo with the MACs! Kill that ship!” Yirenkyi roared.

“Belay that order!” Amarchih unexpectedly commanded. “Captain, I’ve got a squadron of Longswords from Astoria Station vectoring in for the kill – let them deal with the destroyer, while you focus on that corvette!”

“Copy that, sir! Alright, Helm, right five degree rudder, up thirteen! TAO, tertiary battery to maintain fire on 5-Alpha, main and secondary bats shift fire to 9-Bravo. All- “

“BRACE FOR IMPACT!”

_**BOOM!** _

The entire ship shock, nearly knocking some of the crewmen out of their seats as the explosion echoed through the empty passageways of the ship. At once, alarms began sounding.

“We're hit!”

“Sounding and security, check in – “

“ – taking heavy fire from both the destroyer and that – “

“Damage report, if you would, Mister Matterson!” Yirenkyi’s voice rose above the hubbub.

“We took a direct volley to our dorsal side forward bow section, sir! No breaches to report, but the armor is scrapped!”

“Return fire then Helm, up twenty degree rudder; don’t let them hit that same spot again!”

“Aye, sir!”

“All guns: fire!”

All of the _Kilkis_ ' forward maneuvering thrusters simultaneously ignited in order to compensate for the recoil of all three MAC guns firing once more, before tipping her nose up, to avoid return fire hitting the weakened spot on her armor. The MAC rounds streaked towards the Covenant corvette, who fired off her portside emergency thrusters in an effort to get out of the way, but the Covenant were just a bit too slow. The first MAC round missed, but the other two hit head on, with one round actually skimming along the full length of the corvette's shields.

The Covenant of course weren’t taking this abuse lying down. The corvette immediately returned fire with a full salvo of plasma cannon bolts, with a few plasma mortars mixed in for good measure. At the same time, the nearby destroyer also fired.

“VAMPIRE, VAMPIRE, VAMPIRE! Incoming plasma torpedoes bearing one three seven! I count six fish in the air!”

“Evasive maneuvers! Standby to ignite ventral side emergency thrusters on my -"

Without warning, there was a massive blue flash from the hull of the Covenant destroyer and the entire battlefield was momentarily washed away in purple light as all six torpedoes she had just fired prematurely detonated. Before anyone could even think to ask what just happened...

_“This is Astoria Squadron: target 5-Alpha's weapon systems are down, I say again, 5-Alpha has been defanged. We're moving in for the final kill. All ships, stand clear.”_

A series of orange explosions began erupting from the Covenant destroyer's ventral hull, starting from her stern and moving forward towards her bow. As the destroyer's run lights began shutting down one by one and escape pods began ejecting from all around her hull, the silhouette of ten Air Force Longswords pulling out from their attack run could barely been seen in the shadows casted by the rapidly expanding explosions.

 _“Scratch one destroyer!”_ the leader of the Longsword squadron triumphantly declared.

“Good hits, Astoria Leader! We'll make sure you get a medal for that one,” Amarchih declared in response. “Captain, let's not let the Air Force show us up: take out that corvette!”

“Aye, Admiral! TAO, that ship is blocking my view of the battlefield: remove it for me!”

“Yes, sir!”

The space between the two ships suddenly became even more crowded as the sides began exchanging fire at a frantic pace: the Covenant corvette desperately trying to survive while the UNSC battleship worked just as desperately to try and kill her. However, without the heavy fire support from her rapidly disintegrating partner, it was quickly evident the Covenant corvette was simply no match for one of the strongest ships in the UNSC's arsenal. With a flash, the corvette's shield abruptly disappeared, allowing explosions to rip through her hull directly.

“9-Bravo's shields are down, sir!”

“I see that! TAO, load an HE shell into gun two, target her main reactor and fire when ready. Let's finish this!”

“Aye, si- wait! Captain, sir, we're getting a signal... the Covenant are falling back!"

Sure enough, outside, the Covenant warships that were attacking this sector of the planet were breaking contact, including the corvette the _Kilkis_ was fighting against. None of them had stopped firing yet, but all of them were slowly turning around, back towards deep space.

"Captain, I'm reading slipspace ruptures just forward of their bows on all eleven remaining Covenant ships!"

"Including 9-Bravo?"

"Aye, sir!"

"How is that even possible?! With the amount of damage she's sustained, the stress from the transition to and from slipstream space should rip that ship apart!"

"Under normal circumstances, yes, sir, but these are Covenant ships we're dealing with, no one really knows what they're capable of!"

"Then we need to take it out before it leaves! TAO, fire everything we've got, right now!”

The _Kilkis_ immediately fired a single shell from her number two MAC gun. Distracted by her attempts to transition into slipspace, the Covenant corvette had no chance to evade and as a result, the MAC round slammed right into her bow, smashing through the armor like it wasn’t even there, before proceeding to cut diagonally through the length of the ship. The slipspace portal that had just begun to form off the corvette's bow instantly disappeared as all power to her engines were cut. Then -

"Sir, I'm reading a massive surge of energy from within 9-Bravo! Energy output has jumped by three hundred percent!"

"She's got a reactor breach! She's going critical! All craft, stand clear! SHE'S GONNA BLOW!"

The corvette vanished in a brilliant flash of light, and a spherical fireball could be seen erupting from somewhere near the corvette's stern. The fireball passed through the rest of the corvette, ripping it to shreds. Large sections of the corvette were hurtled in all directions, though fortunately no other UNSC ships were in the vicinity.

As the explosion from the corvette began to die down, the remaining Covenant ships in the AO abruptly disappeared into slipspace. With their withdraw, the shooting immediately stopped, bringing the battle to an abrupt end.

Sitting back in his seat, Spaatz couldn’t help but let out a sigh of relief. Despite having been watching the battle remotely from his temporary headquarters aboard Heliopolis Station holding position on the other side of the planet – and thus far from danger – Spaatz couldn’t have helped but felt anxious at how close certain moments of the battle had gotten. If things had gone a certain way… if his crews had reacted in a less professional manner… if the Covenant had brought more firepower…

Well, there was no point in dwelling on “ifs.” What was done was done. Now it was time to figure what it had cost them.

Taking a moment to catch his breath and center himself, Spaatz cleared his throat. “Kanin, give me a BDA.”

"From JTF Astoria, the UNSCs _Źenobie_ and _Clorinde_ were both destroyed with all hands lost,” Kanin somberly began. “The UNSC _Houken_ was also destroyed, as was the _Guerrière_ , however CSAR was able to recover eighty-three and seventy-seven percent of their crews, respectively. Air Force carrier UNSC _Richard Bong_ was damaged by an explosion inside one of her hangar bays, the cause is currently unknown, however Colonel Chekov asserts his ship will be able to maintain their position in formation.”

“Casualties from TF Whiskey include the UNSC _Lemnos_ , whose number two gun was destroyed due to a ruptured barrel, causing twenty-eight casualties. The UNSC _São Paulo_ lost a full quarter of her compliment of support fighters, however reports no damage to her superstructure. The UNSC _Excalibur_ was heavily damaged by two separate plasma torpedoes and is currently being towed back to dry docks as we speak for damage assessment, however preliminary reports suggest it will take a minimum of three months before she is able to return to active duty. The UNSC _Salamis_ and _Kilkis_ are all reporting non-disabling hull damage, whereas both the _Thuân Thiên_ and the _Dáinsleif_ suffered some damage ranging from minor to severe. Repairs to all four ships are already underway.”

"And the Covenant losses?"

"Target 5-Alpha, a _CPV_ -class destroyer, was destroyed, as was target 9-Bravo, a _SDV_ -class heavy destroyer. Targets 6-Bravo, 12-Bravo, and 3-Charlie – _SDV_ -class heavy corvettes and a _CRS_ -class light cruiser, respectively - were damaged, however all were able to successfully withdraw."

Spaatz waited for Kanin to continue, but he didn't. "That’s it?"

"Yes sir. Oh, the civilian yacht, _Black Stallion_ , is thanking us for the rescue and is requesting permission to leave the system."

"Oh, _now_ he's requesting permission to leave the system, huh? He couldn't have asked fifteen minutes ago and saved us the hassle of trying to save his ass, now could he?" Spaatz angrily snarled.

Kanin didn't respond, but Spaatz could see him nodding his head in agreement. Spaatz sighed.

"Kanin, tell that little prick he is to leave my system and never come back, otherwise, I'll shoot his ship down myself. Furthermore, red flag his file; if he sets down anywhere in UNSC controlled space again, I want local authorities to yank that captain's license. If that idiot can't be bothered to obey military orders in the middle of a Covenant attack, then he shouldn't be the captain of a spaceship at all."

"With pleasure, sir. Also, sir, you want me to remind you… about Admiral Amarchih?”

“Ah, dammit all to hell,” Spaatz groaned as he ran a hand through his hair. “Yeah, let me deal with that. Give me a private line to Admiral Amarchih.”

“Connecting. One moment please.”

Amarchih's face suddenly appeared on Spaatz's screen.

 _“Admiral Spaatz,”_ he greeted.

“Admiral Amarchih,” Spaatz returned. “Apologies for the interruption. First off, well done on fighting off the Covenant strike and rescuing that civilian yacht: you and your men should be commended.”

 _“Thank you, sir,”_ Amarchih cautiously replied.

“Secondly: what the hell was that!?”

Amarchih looked startled at the harsh tone Spaatz suddenly adopted. _“Sir?”_

“You put your flagship – and more importantly, yourself – at risk in order to rescue one of your destroyers, the UNSC _Excalibur_. Why?”

Amarchih looked baffled.

 _“The ship was under attack and needed immediate assistance, sir,”_ Amarchih began.

“That may be so, Admiral, but not from you,” Spaatz chided. “While I understand the desire to protect and save the men and women under your command, the cold hard truth of the matter is: you are far more valuable to the war effort than a single _Halberd_ -class destroyer.”

 _“With all due respect, sir,”_ Amarchih interrupted. _“I had no other ships available besides my flagship – what was I supposed to do, let_ Excalibur _get destroyed?”_

“Yes,” Spaatz bluntly stated. “Loss of a destroyer - loss of any ship, rather – is a tragedy, no doubt, but the loss of the commanding officer of the entire Sixth Fleet? The disruption to the chain of command, coupled with the potential loss of an entire battleship… that could have cost us the entire battle!”

Spaatz sighed and leaned forward. “Look, Azouz, there will be a time and a moment where even us admirals will have to be sacrificed for the greater good. But that wasn’t it. Not at this stage of battle. Do you understand me?”

Amarchih looked sullen, but nevertheless nodded. _“Yes, Admiral.”_

“Good. Because if you do it again, I’m yanking you from your flagship and tossing you aboard one of the ODPs. That's it, you're dismissed.”

_“Sir.”_

Amarchih's image disappeared and as soon as it did, Spaatz let out a loud sigh and sat back in his chair, rubbing his eyes.

“Ah,” he groaned. “I wonder what the likes of Lord Horatio Nelson or Yi Sun-sin would think of the admirals of today. With us cowering in our flagships at the rear while the rest of our men fight and die.”

“Dare I say it, sir, it’s probably best not to compare yourself to admirals of the old – warfare has radically changed in the last millennium or two since those gentlemen fought. Things have grown more and more complex and only continue to do so,” Kanin noted. “If those legendary admirals were to suddenly appear in this era, I doubt they would even recognize the battlefield for what it was.”

“Maybe. Maybe not. But there's no denying despite how complex war may have become, some fundamentals never change: the wrong people always seem to die,” Spaatz tiredly replied, before shaking his head. “Anyways, give me a status update on Admiral D'Amboise. How's he doing so far?”

“Covenant continue to probe our lines, sir: Admiral D'Amboise believes they’re attempting to wait us out, see if they can provoke us into making a mistake.”

“It’s a sound strategy: time _is_ on their side,” Spaatz commented.

“Yes, sir. However…”

As Kanin continued to give his rundown, Spaatz called forth a series of tactical displays in order to see for himself how D'Amboise was arranging for the defense of Actium.

For the last hour or so, the Covenant had been launching one attack after another on the UNSC's defensive line. The attacks were rarely conducted by more than a handful of ships, and the attacks themselves weren't that serious; the vast majority of the time, all the Covenant would do was fly in, fire a score of plasma torpedoes to cause some chaos, and then withdraw just as quickly. It wasn't hard to figure out what the Covenant were doing: they were probing the lines, searching for a weak spot, trying to lure ships away from Actium's orbital defense platforms where they could be ambushed, and most of all, wear down the UNSC's numerical advantage.

None of what the Covenant was doing was all that surprising; in fact, most of it was pretty standard tactics when attacking a planet. Because the attackers weren't tied down to a geographical location like the defenders were, the attacking force always held the initiative. The attackers could chose when and where to attack and because of that, D’Amboise had been forced to disperse his ships around the entire colony in order to defend all avenues of approach, least the Covenant discover a hole in the lines and exploit it at the most inopportune moment.

But that was not to say Actium was completely helpless. To counter the Covenant attacks, the UNSC had two advantages over them: numbers and the home field advantage. To that end, D'Amboise – with Spaatz's approval - had divided his forces into a number of joint task forces, combining Navy cruisers, frigates, and destroyers with Air Force carriers and gunships, along with Marine Corps fighters for cover, all centered around one of the nine orbital defense platforms in geosynchronous orbit around Actium. Those JTFs formed the general line of defense, and the combination of firepower from all three service branches would be able to counter the probing attacks the Covenant kept launching.

If everything went to plan, eventually the Covenant would grow tired of those small attacks and would inevitably commit to one massive push to break through the UNSC's defenses, no doubt finally committing their three battlecruisers and one heavy cruiser to the attack. Because that attack could take place anywhere around the world, D’Amboise had formed Task Force Whiskey, combining all of his most powerful ships including all of the Navy's battleships and assault carriers currently present in the Ambracia System, and placing them under Admiral Amarchih's direct command. TF Whiskey would then act as a sort of "ready reaction force," hanging back to preserve their strength all the while standing by, available to counter any Covenant breakthrough.

At least, that had been the plan. In practice, it was clear from the files Spaatz was reviewing, things weren't going as smoothly as he hoped.

The first two times the Covenant had attacked the JTFs, they had been utterly crushed, losing two destroyers, three light cruisers, and a single corvette at the cost of three UNSC's ships. After that though, instead of frittering away their strength on light probing attacks like D’Amboise had hoped, the Covenant had instead turned to "sniping" his ships: with each attack, instead of attempting to cause as much damage as possible, the Covenant would instead expend all their ordnance on a single UNSC ship, inevitably destroying it, before immediately withdrawing to slipspace before the UNSC could respond in kind. If the Covenant kept that up, after a while, D’Amboise’s strength would get whittled away, one ship at a time. And time was on the Covenant's side: the UNSC’s nearest reinforcements were still two hours away.

Conserving TF Whiskey's strength wasn't working out all that well either, mainly because of a single factor D’Amboise had evidently forgotten to account for: civilians. By now, the colonial government would have officially confirmed that Actium was under attack, and as per Spaatz’s instructions, ordered all civilians to remain in place until UNSC forces could establish secure evacuation lanes. Unfortunately, there was always that one civilian who thought, just because he had an air radar and a radio scanner that was capable of decrypting low level military chatter, that he somehow knew more about the exact locations of Covenant ships than the UNSC Navy. And while he supposed he couldn’t fault them for that, unfortunately some of D’Amboise’s ships had broken formation in order to try and rescue said civilian from his own stupidity. Naturally, they had been ambushed, forcing D’Amboise to commit TF Whiskey to rescue his men, least their destruction leave a gaping hole in his defensive line.

It was all turning out to be one giant, frustrating mess.

Kanin abruptly paused in his briefing and cocked his head, catching Spaatz’s attention.

"Admiral? I have ONI, AFIC, MCIA, and INSCOM on the line for you," Kanin suddenly informed him.

Spaatz quickly sat up. He'd been expecting a call from them. "Good. Excellent. Kanin, set privacy screens to level one and feed the call directly to my tac display."

"Yes, sir."

Spaatz waited until Kanin had done just that before accepting the call. The holographic images of four people appeared before him: Rear Admiral al-Cygni of the Office of Naval Intelligence, Brigadier General Kendrick of Air Force Intelligence Command, Brigadier General Samatar of Marine Corps Intelligence Activity, and Colonel Harper of the Army's Intelligence and Security Command. All four were the commanders – or at least the deputy commander, in the case of Colonel Harper - of their respective branches' military intelligences' offices here in the Ambracia System.

 _"Admiral Spaatz,"_ they greeted.

"Admiral. Generals. Colonel," Spaatz said with a nod. "What do you all have for me?”

As expected, al-Cygni was the first one to speak up.

 _"We think we've identified the fleet that's attacking Actium, sir,"_ she began.

"Oh?" Spaatz commented, interested. "Do tell."

Al-Cygni nodded and called forth a series of images. _"Based on an analysis of the type of encryption the Covenant are using, coupled with unique ship configurations and hull symbols, we believe these ships belong to that of the Fleet of Furious Redemption. First identified during the Fall of Madrigal in 2528, the Furious Redemption has participated in a number of other battles since then, such as the Battle of Vodin in 2532, as well as the Invasion of New Harmony in 2537. Intelligence had placed the fleet as having been destroyed two years ago during Admiral Cole's Last Stand, so their appearance here is puzzling, however it's entirely possible our intelligence was simply wrong."_

 _"Or, conversely,"_ Kendrick suddenly interjected, _"the fleet was reconstituted after the battle."_

Al-Cygni inclined her head in Kendrick's direction. " _The physical evidence we have at hand would suggest the latter," she agreed. "Many of the ships we're currently seeing in orbit appear to be that of older models and configurations."_

"Very interesting," Spaatz commented. And he did mean it, as he always liked to know who he was fighting against. However, this information was not quite what he'd been looking for. "But - and not to detract from your fine work ladies and gentlemen - that wasn't quite the intelligence I'd ask your departments to gather. If you recall, I had asked for any intelligence you could obtain that would shed some light on the Covenant intentions for this world beyond the normal purification type of campaign, as neither the Covenant’s tactics nor ships appear to be standard."

 _"With all due respect, sir, the intelligence you just heard tells us_ **everything** _we need to know about the Covenant's motivation,"_ Kendrick interjected, picking up the thread of the conversation. _"You see, sir, the Fleet of Furious Redemption is not a purifying fleet, nor is it an assault fleet, or even a support fleet. It's an_ **invasion** _fleet, sir."_

Spaatz regarded Kendrick carefully. "So, General, what you're telling me is the Covenant are intending to launch a land crusade, is that it?"

All four intelligence directors exchanged glances.

 _"We actually think they intend to do more than that, sir,"_ Kendrick began.

 _"We have reason to believe the Covenant are here to conquer Actium, sir,"_ Samatar said, speaking up for the first time since this conversation began.

Spaatz raised an eyebrow. "’Conquer?’ As in, take over? The Covenant have never shown any interest in taking over any of our colonies before in the past. What makes you think Actium would be any different?"

 _"A number of factors, sir,"_ al-Cygni interjected. _"For starters, the destroyer and corvette ratio of this fleet is much smaller than any other fleet we've seen in recent years, even for a support fleet. As you're undoubtedly aware, sir, in Covenant naval doctrine, destroyers are used primarily in an anti-shipping role, analogous to the way we use our cruisers and battleships. Because of their tremendous firepower, they are also used to glass planets, which is why in fleets geared more towards assault or purification, destroyers vastly outnumber any other ship classification. On the other hand, corvettes are a bit more versatile, and can be used in a number of other roles including, troop transport."_

 _"Furthermore sir,"_ Kendrick continued for her, _"my department has been analyzing the data we received from the skirmish within Tenedos' rings, and we noticed the amount of fighters the cruisers deployed prior to the destruction of JTF Omaha was far lower than what an_ ORS _-class or_ CSS _-class cruiser is actually capable of carrying. Now, there can be a number of alternative explanations for the general lack of fighter support, however I believe the reasoning is simple: the cruisers aren't carrying more fighters because they don't have any more hangar space. And the reason why they don't have any more hangar space is because those hangars are being used to haul other supplies like, say, vehicles for a ground assault. I believe this because normally Covenant capital ships form the spearhead of any Covenant assault, however I'm sure you've noticed how very conservative they've been with their most powerful ships."_

 _"Not only that, sir,"_ Samatar added, _"the phrase 'collateral damage' simply doesn't exist in the Covenant doctrine manual; we know because we've checked. Yet, the Covenant forces here have been unusually renitent with their shots, making sure there are no stray rounds that could potential hit the planet. We can't think of another reason why they would do that unless they were concerned about damaging a prize for which they wish to capture."_

"But what would they need Actium for?" Spaatz asked. "It seems to me the Covenant would be putting themselves in a rather vulnerable position, as it would give the UNSC a location we could finally strike back at."

 _"Sir, I'm going to show you a series of images we've capture, and perhaps the answer will be a bit clearer,"_ al-Cygni said. _"This is an image of a ship which ONI has designated as CCS-00173, though the ship's name might actually be the_ ‘Fervent Crusader' _or_ ‘Hammer of Justice.’ _We're not entirely sure which one it actually is. At any case, this a picture of the ship taken during the Battle of Vodin in 2532."_

An image of a standard looking CSS-class battlecruiser appeared on his screen. Nothing of the image looked out of place, and Spaatz was tempted to ask what he was looking for, when another picture appeared on his screen.

_"This is an image taken during the Battle of New Harmony in 2537.”_

Another image of a CS _S_ -class battlecruiser appeared on his screen. This one appeared almost identical to the first image, but after a few more seconds of study, Spaatz began to pick out some subtle differences, making him wonder if they were two different ships. Before he could say anything though, al-Cygni continued, calling forth another couple images.

 _“Then, what we have here is an image captured from the Battle of Psi Serpentis in 2543. And finally, one taken an hour and a half ago in orbit around Tenedos. We are ninety-nine percent certain these images are all of the same ship. Look closely at the hull, sir. Notice anything?"_ al-Cygni asked.

Spaatz studied the images carefully, enlarging them, and spinning them around so that they were all orientated in the same direction. Finally, after he superimposed them, Spaatz quickly noticed the slight discolorations in the ship's hull that were starting to appear as time continued. It took him a few moments to realize what they meant.

"The ship has been repaired multiple times," Spaatz announced, enlarging the last image and studying it very carefully. "With what appears to be increasingly poor quality materials."

Al-Cygni nodded. _"Exactly, sir. Sir, since the Covenant glassed Harvest two decades ago, ONI, AFIC, and the rest of the intelligence community has been working non-stop to try and locate a Covenant controlled world so that we could finally strike back and potentially force the Covenant to scale back their assault on our worlds. We have yet to find one, or even a hint of one. There are a lot of theories as to why that is, ranging from the exotic to the absurd, however the most plausible explanation seems to be, Covenant worlds are much further away than we realized. However, if that's the case, sir, then the further and further the Covenant advance into UNSC controlled space -"_

"The further and further they get from their supply lines," Spaatz finished. Al-Cygni nodded and Kendrick quickly jumped in to continue the conversation.

_"Precisely, sir. Currently, our best hypothesis? The Covenant came to this world because they were attracted by the high concentration of iron ore just beneath the planet's crust. Iron ore, of course, being one of the base ingredients used to create the nanolaminate plating the Covenant use for their ship's hulls. The fact that we were here already was just a coincidence."_

_"Note, sir, none of this is without precedence,"_ al-Cygni added. _"Sir, have you heard of Operation: PROMETHEUS?"_

Spaatz stiffened.

"I have," he cautiously admitted. "It took place sometime in 2537 near the edge of what was at the time, UNSC controlled space, I believe? Aside from that, all I know about the operation is that it is top secret, eyes only, level ten clearance, which is why I never bothered looking into it any further."

 _"You can relax, Admiral: my job here is to gather intelligence, not keep secrets. That's Section Three's job,"_ al-Cygni assured him. _"Actually, the reason why I bring it up is because I've been cleared by Admiral Parangosky to inform you that the objective of that operation was the destruction of a Covenant shipyard. And that the operation was a success."_

Spaatz was intrigued. "And ONI now believes the Covenant are attempting to establish another one here on Actium?"

_"Yes, sir."_

Al-Cygni fell silent as Spaatz sat back in his chair, considering everything he'd just been told. If what his intelligence chiefs were telling him turned out to be accurate, this was something Spaatz could potentially exploit.

"If the Covenant are looking to make landfall, then they'll have to make a push soon," Spaatz began, thinking out loud. "They have to know UNSC reinforcements are coming. That's going to pressure them to make a move soon, to strike when we are weakest.

 _“While I hate to disagree with you, Admiral, I must. At the current moment, we’re not at our weakest, we’re at our strongest,”_ Kendrick said. _“At the moment, we have the advantage of numbers not just in ships, but we also have the ability to make use of excellent force multipliers, such as our ODPs, as well as our numerous surface assets. The Covenant have no real reason to attack us now. And yes, while it is true that reinforcements will cause our strength to grow, we also have to realize that the Covenant too will undoubtedly be receiving reinforcements of their own. And while I don’t doubt that High Command will give us any and all assets we require to defend this world, there is a limit as to how many reinforcements we are capable of receiving whereas the Covenant can continue to grow exponentially.”_

“And why is that, General?” Spaatz asked, even though he was pretty sure he knew the answer already.

 _“Because of the fact that we’re on the defensive, not just in this battle here, sir, but in the entire war, whereas the Covenant are not. We cannot afford to assemble our entire fleet in one location, least we run the risk of allowing a separate colony to fall under attack, whereas the Covenant could amass their entire navy here if they chose to,”_ Kendrick pointed out.

Spaatz grunted. It was just as he suspected. This was part of the reason why he always hated being on the defensive: there was no way he could be proactive and try to counter the Covenant’s plans before they began, he could only react. “Bottom line, ladies and gentlemen: what are you telling me?”

 _“All four of our departments have done a separate analysis of the Covenant’s current tactics, Admiral, and all four of our departments have come to the same conclusion,”_ al-Cygni began. _“If the Covenant continue to maintain their current hit and run strategy, we will last, at most, all of three standard Actium days before the entire Actium defense force is crippled enough to the point where it will not be able to interfere with any degree of significance against a Covenant landing.”_

“And pray tell, how did you come up to that conclusion?”

_“Our current kill to death rate per hour, sir. Ignoring the Covenant’s initial two attacks because it’s doubtful they will make that mistake again, we’re losing five ships to every one of theirs. Ships that, we’re not readily able to replace, even with the influx of reinforcements. And that’s before the Covenant bring their capital ships into play, which would tip the ratio even further in their favor. And while we might be able to even the odds if we were to utilize our own capital ships, the simulations aren’t promising, owing to the simple fact that we can’t leave Actium’s orbit. Not unless we want the colony to fall. Whereas, the Covenant can always withdraw, make repairs, and then start the process all over again.”_

Spaatz sighed. That had been the conclusion he and Kanin had come to, after running an analysis of their own. But he’d been hoping they had been wrong. “And how are you proposing we counter the Covenant’s tactics?”

Al-Cygni started to look uncomfortable.

 _“We need the Covenant to commit to a surface attack,”_ she reluctantly told him. _“If the Covenant were to make a landing right now, it would tie their forces down to a single geographic location, same as us, pushing them into a pitch battle one that, with our superior numbers, we’ll have the advantage. Furthermore, with a landing, the Covenant would be required to divide their forces as they would not only need to defend their fleet against air attacks, but also to protect their landing site against our ground troops.”_

"And how do you propose we convince the Covenant to commit to such an attack?"

Both al-Cygni and Kendrick glanced in the direction of the two men whose services were responsible for ground warfare.

 _"We make a hole for them,"_ Samatar reported with a small sigh. Spaatz slowly turned to him.

"Apologies, General, there must have been a slight disruption in our connection," Spaatz said. "Because I could have sworn I heard you propose I open a hole in my defensive line and invite the Covenant down to the surface. But surely I couldn't have heard that correctly."

 _"No, sir. That is, if not the exact phrasing, the essence of what I said,"_ Samatar reluctantly replied.

Spaatz stared at him. "Are you out of your mind, General? That is the exact event I'm doing my best to prevent! Why in god's good name would I allow the Covenant access to this world?"

 _"Because it's the only way to avert a greater disaster, sir,"_ Samatar plainly stated. _"The facts cannot be denied, Admiral: the Covenant are here to conquer this planet, meaning there will be an invasion. There is no question of that. What is in question is the when and the where, and the answers to that will no doubt be some variation of the phrase ‘when it is most inconvenient for us,’ because as my counterparts have pointed out, our strength will only wane from this point forward, while the Covenant can only grow. By allowing the Covenant to land at a spot of our choosing, we can at least eliminate the number of unknown factors.”_

 _“Make no mistake, sir,”_ Samatar continued. _“I’m not proposing we simply allow the Covenant to land at any spot around the world on a whim. I’m proposing we fool the Covenant into landing at a spot most optimize for our purposes where the terrain favors the defenders, yet also minimizes the amount of damage the Covenant is capable of achieving.”_

“And I trust you have a spot in mind already?”

_“I have several, sir. All I require is your seal of approval.”_

Spaatz pinched the bridge of his nose. He couldn’t believe he was even considering this, but unfortunately, the facts could not be denied. “Alright, General, let’s hear it.”

_“Any of the major islands would do, sir. Given that roughly sixty-four percent of Actium’s surface is water, the Actium Colonial Government has spent considerable time, money, and resources in the last two decades in creating a ‘blue-water’ Actium Navy. The vast majority of their ships are geared towards planetary defense and as such, are equipped with inter-planetary weapon systems, however they can easily be repurposed for use against surface targets. Having the Covenant land on an island would mean we could utilize said ships, while at the same time, limit the expansion of their landing zone. An island would also allow us to consider the use of nuclear weapons.”_

_“Also, that’s where most of the UNSCMC units assigned to this system would be located,”_ Samatar added, almost as an afterthought.

“Actium has seven islands all over a hundred thousand square kilometers in size, General,” Spaatz pointed out from memory. “Which island did you have in mind in particular?”

_“The island of Cyprium would be ideal. Straddling the equator in the middle of the Euxine Ocean, the center of the island is a rainforest reserve while the outer edge is mainly geared towards tourism, of which it is currently between seasons, so civilian casualties would be kept to a minimum. The island is home to a number of military unit headquarters, many of which the Covenant would be forced to capture or destroy in order to facilitate further movement across the planet. Conversely, the presence of so many military installations means the island is rather fortified, and thus would be difficult for the Covenant to capture, necessitating them to commit a far greater force than required elsewhere, tying down their fleet even further.”_

Spaatz nodded in understanding as he considered Samatar's request. He had to admit, he didn’t know much about the island of Cyprium, only that it was where General Iqbal’s headquarters were located, and for that fact alone, Spaatz was tempted to give his approval. Unfortunately, military needs outweighed his petty desires.

“Unfortunately, while your reasoning is sound, General, there is one noticeable flaw: the Covenant aren’t that stupid,” Spaatz pointed out. “Despite their name, the Covenant Navy actually has very little in terms of maritime assets, and the Covenant know that. They would never commit to an island attack because they know, just as we do, they would have very little capability to continue the offensive once the island had been captured. No, if I allow this, it can’t be an island, it would have to be on the mainland.”

 _“We had considered that, and I do have a list of alternatives, sir,”_ Samatar reported. _“Ideal mainland location would be the Thracia Province, on the continent of Hellas.”_

Spaatz raised an eyebrow. “Why there?”

 _"Geography,"_ was Samatar’s simple reply. _"Thracia Province is surrounded by several natural barriers, boxing the province in, so to speak. To the east, the Euxine Ocean. To the west, roughly three hundred kilometers inland and separating the Thracia Province from the Dacia Province, there's the Haemus Mountain Range. The mountain range runs north to about the thirty-ninth parallel where it turns eastward towards the ocean, forming the northern border of Thracia. The interior of Thracia is rather hilly, with plenty of rivers and lakes that can be utilize as defensive hard points, as well as an extensive highway and railroad system in place that can facilitate the movement of reinforcements. In short, sir, the terrain highly favors the defenders. Only downside I can see, sir, is that area falls within the AOR of the UNSC Army, and I cannot verify the readiness of Army units in that location.”_

All eyes immediately turned towards Colonel Harper who, up until this point, had been completely silent, seemingly content in allowing his coworkers speak for him.

“Well, Colonel? Thoughts?” Spaatz finally asked. “I realize you’re only the deputy commander, but I can only presume General Kaluuya was able to keep you in the loop?”

 _“She was, sir,”_ Harper replied in a startlingly commanding voice. _“As to your question, sir, Army units stationed on the eastern seaboard of Hellas are a mix of replacement and veteran soldiers, and I believe most of them aren’t quite at full strength due to recent combat deployments elsewhere in UNSC Space. That being said, sir, I assure you they’re prepared to do everything and anything necessary to defend their homes.”_

Harper fell silent, leaving Spaatz to consider the proposal set before him. Mentally, he reviewed everything he had just been told, from the identification of the Covenant fleet attacking them now, to their possible mission objectives, to the amount of losses his fleet had taken in comparison to the Covenant Navy, and then finally to the idea of allowing a ground invasion to take place.

"Colonel, answer me this: if I do allow the Covenant to gain a lodgement on the surface, what guarantees do we have that our ground forces will be able to contain, and then eliminate said lodgement?" Spaatz finally asked. "It seems to be an awfully large risk, allowing them access to the surface, as the situation could easily turn against us."

 _"There are absolutely no guarantees our ground forces would be able to contain the situation,"_ Harper bluntly replied.

 _"Admiral, while we can't guarantee our success on the ground, we can guarantee that we will be defeated in orbit,"_ Kendrick cut in. _"At which point, the Covenant will be free to attack at any spot around the world and destroy our forces with impunity."_

 _"With this plan, sir, we'll at least be able to minimize some of the damage done to our ground troops, while allowing us the opportunity to inflict the maximum amount of casualties on the Covenant as possible,"_ al-Cygni agreed.

Spaatz nodded, then sighed. "Then I suppose all that's left to do is to figure out how to create a plausible hole," he reluctantly announced. “Alright. Kanin, get Admiral D’Amboise and General Iqbal on the line. Oh, and General Langley, as this will affect his troops the most.”

“In the meantime, ladies and gentlemen,” Spaatz said, throwing a glance at his intelligence chiefs before they could disappear. “Alert your subordinates.”

“Tell them to prepare for a surface attack.”

* * *

General Notes

Ships mentioned in this chapter:

 **UNSC _Kilkis_ , _Salamis_ , and _Lemnos_** : these ships are all named after three of the only four battleships the Hellenic (Greek) Navy has ever operated. They are in turn named after famous Greek battles (specifically, the Battle of Kilkis-Lachanas in 1913, the Battle of Salamis in 480 BCE, and the Battle of Lemnos in 1913.) The real _Kilkis_ and _Lemnos_ both saw action during the Allied intervention in the Russian Civil War and the Greco-Turkish War before both were sunk in 1941 by German dive bombers, as part of Germany's invasion of Greece, whereas the _Salamis_ was never completed.

 **UNSCs _Excalibur_ , _Thuân Thiên_ , _Dáinsleif_ and _Houken_** : these ships are all named after legendary and/or mythological swords. Excalibur is famously associated with Arthurian legends, being King Arthur's personal sword (and possibly the one he pulled from the stone, making him king of Britain though that varies from version to version,) whereas the Thuân Thiên (“Heaven's Will" in English) is from Vietnamese legends, where is its reportedly the sword King Lê Lói (who is a historical person) used to liberate Vietnam from Chinese occupation after a ten year war in the early 1400’s (1418 to 1428, specifically.) Dáinsleif (“Dáinn's Legacy” in English) on the other hand, is supposedly a sword capable of inflicting wounds that would never heal, and could not be unsheathed without killing a man. Finally, Houken is a metaphorical sword from Buddhist epics that is used to cut away earthly desires.

 **UNSC _Richard Bong_** : this ship is named for US Army Air Force pilot, Major Richard Ira Bong. Major Bong was credited with shooting down 40 Japanese fighters in the Pacific Theater, making him America’s highest scoring fighter ace of World War II. In December of 1944, he was awarded the Medal of Honor for volunteering to fly combat missions in the months of October and November of 1944 over Borneo and Leyte, despite being on flight instructor status at the time. Major Bong was killed on August 6, 1945 (coincidently on the same day Hiroshima was bombed, marking the first time a nuclear weapon was used in the history of warfare) while acting as a test pilot for America’s first jet fighter, the P-80 “Shooting Star.” He was 24 years old.

 **UNSCs _Źenobie_ , _Clorinde_ , and _Guerrière_** : these ships were all names of French Navy steam frigates from the mid to late 1800’s.

 **UNSC _São Paulo_** : this ship is named after the former Brazilian aircraft carrier the NAe _São Paulo_ , which up until 2017, was the second of the only two aircraft carriers the Brazilian Navy ever possessed. Not mentioned in the chapter itself, but it’s intended to be an _Epoch_ -class heavy carrier, which is a canon class carriers owned and operated by the UNSC Navy, unlike the other carriers that have appeared in this story so far.

Other Notes:

**BDA:** **B** attle **D** amage **A** ssessment. As the name implies, this is an after-action assessment of the damage done. Usually associated with and asked for in the wake of an artillery or air strike.

 **AFIC** : **A** ir **F** orce **I** ntelligence **C** ommand. This is the former name of the United States Air Force military intelligence gathering agency (USAF counterpart to the real world US Navy’s ONI.) The name was used between 1991 and 1993 before it was changed. Since 2019, the command is simply known as the “Sixteenth Air Force” (16 AF), but I liked the name AFIC better. In this story, it’s the UNSCAF counterpart to ONI.

 **MCIA** : **M** arine **C** orps **I** ntelligence **A** ctivity. Like above, only the Marine Corps version.

 **INSCOM:** **IN** telligence and **S** ecurity **COM** mand. Like the two aforementioned examples, but the Army version.

 **Al-Cygni:** this character is intended to be Jilan al-Cygni, a canon character who first appeared in the novel, _Halo: Contact Harvest_ , where she acted as the military commanding officer of the defense of Harvest during the Covenant invasion. She is/was also Sergeant Major Avery Johnson’s lover.

 **Fleet of Furious Redemption:** this is a canon Covenant fleet. It first appeared in the graphic novel, _Halo: Uprising_. The fleet participated in the Invasion of the Sol System in 2552 (as depicted in _Halo 2_ ,) and most notably was responsible for the assault on Mars.

 **Operation: PROMETHEUS:** this is a canon operation. First appearing in the book, _Halo: Ghost of Onyx_ , it was the operation that caused the near-complete annihilation of Alpha Company of the Spartan-III program.


	7. Breach

**High Orbit, Actium  
May 6, 2545  
0937  
“JTF Byzas”**

**Zelda**

Zelda has just finished flushing the wrapper to his D-ration into space when movement several kilometers above his head caught his attention. He absentmindedly looked up, only to be sent scrambling for his radio when he realized the movement was the result of several warships – both Navy and Air Force – abruptly moving out.

“Leader, this is 6,” Zelda said, willing himself to remain as calm as possible. “Looks like we’ve got a bunch of ships moving out. Are you seeing this? I didn’t hear anything about a move order –uh, what the fuck is going on?”

Zelda released his talk button, only to be immediately assaulted by questions as every other member of his squadron slowly began picking up on the same thing he had seen.

_“Leader, this is 13 – “_

_“– hang on, it is just the Navy ships moving out?”_

_“ – they know something we don’t – “_

_“_ Trenchard _looks like she’s staying here so – “_

_“- fuck they going – “_

“What the fuck,” Zelda muttered to himself as he glanced at his instruments. According to the IFF tracker on his HUD, just about every single warship and gunboat assigned to JTF Byzas was pulling out, leaving just Byzas Station, the UNSC _Trenchard,_ and a bunch of confused fighter squadrons remaining. Making things even more confusing, the ships that were pulling out weren’t even going in the same direction, with some headed to what appeared to be JTF North Pole, while others appeared to be headed to JTF Cyprium.

There was a burst of static from the radio, before Bellum’s voice cut through all baffled chatter and questions.

_“Alright everybody, shut up for a moment,”_ Bellum snapped. _“Yeah, I’m seeing the same thing you guys are, and I’m trying to figure out what’s going on. I’ve got Byzas Station in one ear,_ Trenchard _in the other and I can’t listen to them and you guys at the same time. So, everyone, shut the fuck up for the time being, alright?”_

_“Leader, this is 13: what seems to be the problem?”_

_“I’m getting contradicting orders from_ Byzas, Trenchard, _and the commander of this JTF,”_ Bellum reported, frustration evident in her voice. _“Even fucking Orbital Defense Command HQ is saying something different.”_

_“Well, who’s in charge of this JTF? Isn't it Admiral Harper? Isn’t it his job to make sure this doesn’t happen?”_

“Oh, that’s brilliant, Skeeter,” Zelda muttered under his breath. “What, you want Bellum to call up the fucking admiral of this JTF and tell him what a shit job he’s doing? Fucking dumbass.”

_“Zelda, sod off you fucking twat, I wasn’t talking to you.”_

Zelda jumped. He hadn’t realized he had accidently said those words over an open comlink, though his surprise quickly turned to anger and he grabbed his radio properly. “Why don’t _you_ fuck off, you cunt.”

_“Guys!”_ Bellum snapped. _“Shut. Up!”_

Zelda mutely snarled before doing as he was told.

_“Dude, this ain’t good,”_ he heard Odessa mutter and he was about to snap about how unfair it was that Odessa could speak but he couldn’t, when he realized Odessa was talking over their private line. _“If the Covenant notice we just lost like, all of our combat strength in this section of the planet, they’re going to hit us with everything they got.”_

“Bro, don’t worry about it,” Zelda replied with as much confidence and arrogance he could muster. “We got enough fighter pilots here to cover everything. It’s not like we need those goddamn Navy squids any- “

_“Slipspace rupture detected.”_

_"Oh shit! Leader, this is Omega-9! I got visual on slipspace ruptures in sector three niner seven three!"_

Zelda blanched at the call and immediately switched his HUD over to that sector in time to see half a dozen slipspace portals appearing a couple thousand kilometers in front of JTF Byzas. Rapidly emerging from said portals came nearly two dozen Covenant warships of all classifications, shields primed and weapons ready to fire. Instantly all hell broke loose.

_"Holy shit, we're under attack!"_

_"Omega Leader, Omega-13: are you seeing this? Are you seeing this!?"_

_"Of course I fucking see it! God dammit! How many ships is that?"_

_"5 here: I count twenty-four Covenant warships!"_ Zelda heard Odessa reporting, but over their private channel, he also heard Odessa say, _“Good job, Zelda, you just_ **had** _to taunt them.”_

“What? This ain’t my fucking fault!” Zelda snapped to no one in particular as he hurriedly brought his Broadsword back online. As his dashboard lit up, Zelda hurriedly looked around, trying to see how everyone else was reacting.

The Covenant had emerged some hundred thousand klicks away from a large Navy battle group that had been in the midst of redeploying to who-knew-where and because of that, they were the ones the Covenant decided to focus on first. Given that Zelda’s fighter had yet to fully come online plus, he wasn’t interested in doing another one-man charge against a Covenant fleet – much less one that was fully intact – all Zelda could do was watch in horror as the Covenant promptly opened fire before the Navy could fully reorientate themselves.

“Holy shit, there goes our primary fire support!” he yelped.

The space between the two fleets lit up as plasma and laser fire spewed across the great expanse and slammed into the UNSC forces. Immediately casualties began to light up across the board. Zelda watched in shock as one frigate got hit simultaneously by five separate plasma torpedoes causing fire and explosions to erupt all over her hull. Before the ship's crew could properly respond, she was immediately struck by a combination of plasma cannon and mortar fire which caused the entire ship to disintegrate.

Glancing over at the left flank, Zelda watched as a destroyer ignited her portside emergency thrusters in order to spin around like a top to bring their MAC on target, before promptly opening up on all the Covenant within range with every weapon system they had. But before the ship could fire more than a single salvo, she was speared amidship by a plasma torpedo. An explosion erupted from the destroyer's dorsal hull, corresponding roughly to the where the main reactor to the MAC was located, and immediately the destroyer fired her thrusters and began to break contact. But before the ship could travel further than a couple kilometers, she was struck by five more torpedoes which gutted her, leaving her dead in space.

All across the line, the same scene was being repeated over and over again. Because the Navy’s ships had been moving parallel to the planet whereas the Covenant had appeared perpendicular to it, none of the bows of the Navy warships had been pointed in the right direction, which meant they couldn’t immediately fire with their MACs leaving the Covenant free to engage without fear of retaliation. However, the Navy was quickly waking up and responding in turn.

In the center of the line, Zelda could see a Covenant destroyer get struck by MAC rounds from an entire UNSC destroyer squadron. The rounds outright disabled the Covie shields and caused untold amounts of damage to the ship's hull. Before the Covenant could return fire though, the entire ship detonated in a brilliant blue flash as she was struck by a fury of Archer missiles.

Nearby, the UNSC _Canberra_ , a _Marathon_ -class cruiser which was acting as the flagship for JTF Byzas, was engaged in a furious dual with two Covenant corvettes. The space between the three ships was a maelstrom of explosions as all ships involved were rapidly exchanging fire, which was being countered by countermeasures, which in turn was getting intercepted by counter-battery fire. At first glance, it appeared to be a losing dual for the _Canberra_ as her opponents had energy shields and she didn't, but the _Canberra_ was maneuvering in such a way she was able to keep at least one corvette between her and the other corvette, forcing the Covenant to be very selective with their shots least they accident shoot each other. In the meantime, the _Canberra_ was free to fire with impunity, which she did, and soon Zelda could see an explosion erupting from one of the corvette's hull, indicating that at least _that_ ship had lost her energy shields.

Unfortunately, such victories were rare and the Covenant's superior weapons and defenses were beginning to show as more and more UNSC ships were destroyed. Holes were beginning to form in the defensive line, most visibly on the left flank where at least ten Covenant warships alone were concentrating on forcing a breach.

"Son of a bitch," Zelda whispered to herself as he watched the battle unfold on his screen. Despite the sheer brutality he was witnessing, he found herself unable to look away. "Why the fuck aren’t we doing anything? And where the fuck are our reinforcements!?"

There was a bright orange flash on the left flank as the last UNSC ship holding position there finally fell, blowing up under a concentrated amount of plasma fire. With nothing in their way any longer, the Covenant began speeding towards Actium.

"Oh shit, breach! The line is breached!" Zelda yelled into his radio. Immediately he grabbed his throttle and began angling his Broadsword towards open space.

_“6, what are you doing?”_ Bellum immediately yelled in his ear. _“Hold your position!”_

Zelda grabbed his radio. "We can't just fucking sit here and do nothing!"

_“What are you going to do!? You’re only one fighter against an entire fleet of Covenant warships! And this isn’t like Tenedos, those ships are intact! Hold your position, Byzas Station is coming about to deal with the breach!”_

Zelda growled, the urge to do _something_ almost overwhelming, but he managed to bring himself under control. Releasing his throttle, Zelda instead glanced in Byzas Station’s direction.

The giant station was already springing into action, firing her maneuvering thrusters and pivoting her massive superstructure around so that her main battery was aimed at the incoming ships. Even as Zelda watched, the lights that lined the side of the station started to go dark as all available power was fed to her main battery before –

\- there was a brilliant flash of light as Byzas Station fired!

By the time Zelda had finished blinking, the shell had already crossed the distance between the station and her target, a Covenant corvette. The corvette took the round head on, her shields folding like a wet paper towel, and immediately caught on fire as the super heavy MAC round dug an entire channel across her hull. Before the corvette could even begin to fall apart, Byzas Station fired again, hitting another corvette and tearing a huge chuck out from her stern as the shell just barely missed. The blow threw the entire ship into a spin but as her crew attempted to recover, Byzas Station fired once more, this time hitting the ship dead center on her ventral hull and causing the entire corvette to simply disintegrate.

The Covenant began to return fire, scoring several hits and leaving burn marks along the length of Byzas Station's hull, but her armor held fast. In retaliation, Byzas Station fired two rounds in quick secession, instantly destroying a light cruiser, and causing massive damage to another corvette.

Watching all this, Zelda was tempted to say the battle was quickly being brought under control, but as he glanced back at the rest of the defensive line, he realized how wrong he was. More than half of JTF Byzas had been destroyed already, with the Covenant only suffering light casualties in return. It was clear the entire defensive line was crumbling.

The fact that Actium's defensives were falling so quickly wasn't super surprising to Zelda, especially given the disparity in firepower between the two sides. What was surprising was the fact that reinforcements had yet to appear. Surely the rest of the planet was seeing what was happening here? Why weren't they sending help? It was almost as if Command wanted this sector to get breached!

_"Alright, all Omega Flight pilots, listen up!"_

Bellum’s voice cut through Zelda’s mental tirade and he quickly sat up _._

_"JTF Byzas has taken too many casualties and Admiral Harper is ordering a general withdraw,"_ Bellum informed them. _"Our ships are going to break contact and fall back to position one three niner four and establish a secondary line of defense behind our orbital defense stations. That means we're about to become the next front line. All fighters, arm all weapons and standby for status check.”_

Zelda blanched as the full weight of Bellum’s words hit him, and he hastily grabbed his controls.

“Fuck, I was only fucking kidding,” he muttered to himself as he flicked a bunch of switches, arming his missiles. He glanced outside. In the distance, whatever remained of JTF Byzas was slowly breaking contact and pulling away from the Covenant, flying back towards Actium to safety, all the while Byzas Station continued to lay down copious amounts of fire.

_"All Omega fighters, confirm status,"_ Bellum barked and even Zelda could hear the slight hitch in her voice.

“Omega-6, standing by,” Zelda reported.

_"Omega-3, all good here."_

_"Omega-5- hang on, are the Covenant falling back?"_

That caught Zelda’s attention and he quickly glanced at his HUD. Sure enough, by the looks of it, the Covenant were slowly pulling their ships back.

_"What the... the Covenant are winning,"_ someone point out. _"Why are they falling back now?"_

_"Maybe Byzas_ _Station was just too much for them to handle?"_ someone else suggested.

"That's never stopped them before," Zelda muttered out loud as he studied the retreating ships.

Zooming in on one corvette, Zelda happened to spot movement near their rear. Being a fighter pilot himself and having deployed from many a carrier in both training and combat, he immediately knew what the movement was: the Covenant were deploying fighters.

“Leader? They’re deploying fighters!”

Zelda couldn’t help the triumphant tone in his voice from appearing as he spoke. Maybe his Broadsword wasn’t enough to even scratch the shields of the smallest Covie warships, but enemy fighters? That, now that he could handle.

_“Yeah, yeah, I see them!”_

Studying his HUD, Zelda could see dozens and dozens of all manner of Covenant fighters pouring out of the surviving Covenant ships: Seraph multirole fighters, Banshee interceptors, and even a couple of Phantom gunboats. His HUD quickly became cluttered with a sea of red dots as his targeting computer attempted to keep track of all the enemy spacecraft, but it was a losing battle given how many of them there were.

The fighters quickly broke up into individual squadrons while their motherships made a hasty beat back to slipspace in order to avoid further loss to Byzas Station. Then, almost as one, every single fighter ignited their afterburners and started speeding towards Actium. Zelda didn’t need his computer to figure out where their trajectory would put them: they were all headed straight for Byzas Station.

Byzas Station abruptly fired again, not at the retreating Covenant warships, but instead at the incoming fighters. The round passed right through the mass, leaving a series of miniature explosions in its wake as the much smaller ships simply had no defense against a projectile of that magnitude, but given how numerous they were, it just wasn’t enough. Super MACs were humanity’s most effective weapon against Covenant warships but against small craft and gunboats, it was like throwing a rock at a swarm of gnats for all the good it did.

_"Alright guys, listen up!"_ Bellum barked. _"We've got a lot of incoming bandits, but our job is to cover Byzas. What that means is, stay within ten klicks of the station and make sure nothing gets through. Do not – I say again, do **not** – break formation and attempt to take on this swarm by yourself, **Zelda.** ”_

“What?” Zelda protested, even as the rest of his squadron broke out into nervous giggles. “I would _never–_ okay, maybe I would.”

_“Hence why you’re being called out,”_ Bellum drily returned and for a moment there, it felt like it was just another regular day of training. _“Good luck, and stay safe. I’ll see you guys on the other side. Out.”_

The radio clicked off, and Zelda was left to stare at the incoming wave of fighters. He felt a cocky grin tugging at his cheeks, but he quickly checked himself – he needed to focus.

_“Kill sats are engaging,”_ Odessa muttered. _“6, as soon as they fire, we’re following them in.”_

Zelda’s hand found his talk button. “Copy.”

_"Kill sats firing in... three, two,"_ Odessa whispered, _"one... **mark**!"_

Zelda slammed down on his throttle as nearly three hundred missiles were simultaneously fired. He plowed through the white contrails the missiles left in their wake as they charged towards the approaching onslaught. As expected, about a third of them immediately lost their target and veered off course due to Covenant ECM. About another third were destroyed as active countermeasures went to work, lighting up the space between the two warring parties with explosions. But the last hundred or so missiles...

Even through the missile exhaust, Zelda could see all the violent blue explosions that suddenly appeared among the Covenant’s formation as the missiles slammed into the front ranks of the incoming swarm. Nearly three dozen Banshees, several Phantoms, and a couple of Seraphs were instantly destroyed, with dozens more damaged, leaving behind a sizable debris field that caused even more damage as the following ranks were forced to fly right through it. Yet, despite all this, it hardly seemed to make a dent in the Covenant’s numbers.

However, just as the Covenant commanders were beginning to reorganize their forces, Zelda abruptly appeared from behind the missile contrails.

“Surprise, muthafuckas,” Zelda taunted as he whipped his crosshairs over a dozen fighters floating in front of him, instantly obtained locks, and fired a full spread of missiles. “Fox one!”

The doors to his weapons bay popped open and began spitting out missiles at a frantic pace, but it wasn’t the only one: the other members of his squadron were doing the same thing, and their missiles only added to the general chaos that was reining over the Covenant formation.

Rather than wait to see if any of his initial salvo even managed to hit anything, Zelda hurriedly began lining up another dozen targets.

_“Alright guys, we fire one more volley, follow up with guns, then break off into flights!”_ Bellum commanded. _“Copy?”_

“Copy,” Zelda distractedly replied, then pulled the trigger. “Fox one!”

He could feel his missiles ejecting from the bottom of Broadsword but this time he decided to watch them as they streaked towards the Covenant, in order to figure out where he need to follow up with his guns. Roughly three quarters of his missiles missed, either because Covenant countermeasures or simply because they were able to dodge, but his remaining three zeroed in on a single Seraph and slammed home, causing the fighter's shields to light up. Zelda had found his target.

“Guns, AP!” Zelda spat out as he locked his crosshairs over the Seraph and pulled the trigger.

Zelda could see the numbers on his ammo counter rapidly tick downwards as he sprayed the Seraph, trying to do as much damage as he could before he had to break off. He could see the Seraph's shields shattering under the barrage before his rounds began chipping away at the fighter's armor, but before they had a chance to do any significant amount of damage –

_“All fighters, break off, BREAK OFF!”_

Zelda automatically jerked his stick to the side, snarling as he realized he wasn’t able to finish the Seraph in time but also knowing he didn’t have much of a choice: the initial bombardment of the Covenant may have thrown them into chaos for a few seconds, but they were quickly recovering from their shock. Even as he peeled away and rocketed back to the relative safety of Byzas Station, plasma bolts began streaking right over his fighter as the Covenant hastily fired at the retreating UNSC fighters.

_“Alright that caught their attention! Spilt up and separate them; primary focus is on the Seraphs! Don't let them through!”_ Zelda heard Bellum breathlessly yell over the radio.

Zelda grunted in affirmation as he hurriedly dodged a plasma cannon bolt and glanced around, looking for Odessa. He spotted him not too far away flying in formation with what appeared to be Omegas 7 and 8, and Zelda hurriedly angled his fighter to join them.

_“Zelda, you good?”_ Odessa yelled as Zelda pulled up behind him.

“Yeah, I’m green – shit!”

The curse slipped out from between his lips as he jammed his stick to the side in order to dodge a plasma bolt, only to almost slam into Omega-7.

_“Whoa, watch yourself, Zelda!”_ 7 yelled in warning.

“Fuck you JV – give me some goddamn breathing room you asshole!” Zelda snarled back.

_“How many we got on our six!?”_ Odessa questioned even as plasma continued to explode all around them.

_“Odessa, 303: I count six of ‘em! Four Seraphs and two Banshees, pushing our asses!”_

_“We got to split these assholes up, take them out one at a time,”_ Odessa commanded. _“On my mark, JV and 303 break left, me and Zelda will break right. We double around, meet back up in sector two one seven to support each other, got it!?”_

_“Yeah.” “Got it!”_

“Just waiting on you, sweetheart,” Zelda dryly declared.

**_“MARK!”_ **

Zelda jammed his stick to the right, throwing his fighter into a barrel roll and passing right through the space between JV and 303 as they spun in the opposite direction. Odessa immediately started climbing and Zelda hastily follow suit. Glancing behind him, he could see three of the four Seraphs peeling off in pursuit.

_“How many we pick up!?”_ Odessa yelled.

“Three of them!” Zelda yelled back. “Got any more brilliant plans to deal with these pricks?”

_“Thought you were the brains of this operation!”_

“You serious? Most of my plans just involving charging at the baddies and letting my superior flying skills beat them!”

_“Well, ain’t that the truth!”_ Odessa replied with a laugh. _“Hey, that far one on the right doesn’t seem to have his shields at full strength. Let’s take him out real quick, even the playing field!”_

“Sounds good to me!” Zelda cheerfully replied as he prepped his engines.

_“MARK!”_

Zelda jerked back on his stick, igniting the thrusters on the other side of his fighter. He found himself doing a full one-eighty backflip and found himself flying backwards, facing his pursuers. He didn’t hesitated. Locking onto the Seraph Odessa had singled out, he dumped half a dozen Medusas in the Covenant's direction.

“Guns, AP!”

The Seraph's shield lasted all of seven seconds before it abruptly folded under the barrage. The Seraph immediately jerked to the left in an attempt to escape the withering storm, but in the pilot’s panic, the Elite inadvertently flew right into his wingman's line of fire.

There was a flash of blue as the unshielded Seraph was struck right in the engine by a plasma bolt fired by its friend, throwing the fighter into a spin. Before the crippled Seraph could hope to recover, Zelda hastily finished it off by planting a single missile into the Covenant fighter's cockpit.

“Hahaha!” Zelda let out a burst of maniacal laughter as the Seraph rapidly disintegrated, leaving behind only a small cloud of radiation and debris. “Friendly fire ain't so friendly, is it? Thanks for the help, assholes!”

Zelda had deliberately transmitted his taunt over unencrypted channels on the off chance the Covenant were monitoring his airwaves and judging by the sudden increase in plasma fire, they were and had not appreciated his gloating. Even as he flipped his fighter back around, Zelda was forced to jerk to the right to avoid a series of bolts that shredded the area he had just vacated.

_“Zelda!”_ Odessa yelled, his voice sounding strained as he concentrated on not getting hit. _“What'd I tell you about taunting the enemy!?”_

“That's its funny and I should do it all the time?” Zelda cheekily suggest. “ – Fuck, chaff!”

His fighter responded just in time to intercept the fuel rod that would have ripped off his entire left wing.

_“Okay, yeah, it was a little bit funny,”_ Odessa admitted as they attempted to loop around, in an effort to continue to juke the Covies' aim. _“But do it **after** the Covenant are all dead, **after!** Because now we got two very pissed off flying tanks flying after us!”_

“Oh, calm your tits, dude, we can take these assholes, no sweat,” Zelda confidently assured him.

_“Oh? By all means, feel free to demonstrate for me.”_

“It’s easy, all we gotta to do is – shit! FUCK!” Zelda yelped as he started to execute cobra roll, only to almost fly right into a barrage of plasma fire and fuel rod cannons as the Seraphs had obviously anticipated his moves and pre-fired at the spot he was about to appear. If not for Zelda's quick reactions, he would have been toast. “SON OF A BITCH!”

_“Graceful,”_ Odessa dryly noted.

“Shut the fuck up and get these fucks off me!” Zelda snarled, red-face.

_“Trying, but nothing I’m doing is working,_ ” came the strained reply. _“Listen, nothing we're doing right now is working – turn to point oh three degrees! We'll head towards the support stations and see if we can’t get some fire support!”_

Zelda gave a reluctant grunt; he hated asking other people for help but then again, it wasn’t like what he was doing now was helping either…

Zelda threw himself into a loop, neatly dodging past a trio of Wombats chasing after a pair of Banshees and headed straight for the nearest space station, all anti-aircraft weapons blazing away. Behind him, the two Seraphs plunged after him, not caring if they nearly hit friendly or enemy alike, so intent they were on shooting Zelda and Odessa down.

“Hey!” Zelda yelled as they rocketed towards the station. “You think those cannon-cockers will be able to shoot straight?”

_“Dunno!”_ Odessa yelled back. _“Wayward Station is a squid station so who the fuck knows!”_

“Ah, fuck!”

_“Just be ready to expect the unexpected!”_

“Oh, great fucking advice!” Zelda sarcastically shot back. In the distance, he could see one of the station's hull mounted Onager turrets rotate in his direction and he nervously swallowed. “You got anymore fucking clichés to offer!? Like ‘aim high' or ‘be all that you can be!?’”

_“Shut up and break left, NOW!”_

Zelda gritted his teeth as he ignited his right side thrusters, causing him to get slammed hard against his restraints, but at least it got him out of the line of fire for the Onager. There was a flash of light as the Onager fired a round at full power into the nose of one of the Seraphs, instantly blowing it to kingdom come.

“Oh, no you don’t!” Zelda roared as he spotted the remaining Seraph break off pursuit and immediately speed off in another direction in an attempt to flee. “You don’t get to leave!”

_“Pop that asshole; don’t let him get away!”_ Odessa urged

“What the fuck do you think I’m _doing!?!?”_

Locking onto the Seraph, Zelda fired a trio of missiles, waited a few seconds, then fired again. As expected, the first three missiles were obliterated by the Seraph's countermeasures, but obscured by the explosions, the next three hit home, slamming into the Seraph's shields and obliterating them.

“I have you now,” Zelda taunted as he lined up his next missile on the helpless Seraph's engines. “Wha- ?”

Zelda blinked as Odessa fired a single ASGM-10 missile straight up the Seraph's tailpipe, obliterating the alien fighter in one go.

“What the _fuck,_ Odessa!!!” Zelda cried in both surprise and outrage.

_“You were taking too long,”_ Odessa snapped back.

“Dude - ! That was my kill!”

_“Who cares, we got other things we need to worry about! We're coming up on the rendezvous: you see JV or 303 anywhere?”_

Grumbling under his breath, Zelda glanced around, trying to spot the IFF tags of the other two members of his flight. “There! Sector one seven one!”

_“Okay, yeah, I see them. Omega 7 and 8, this is 5 and 6: we're coming up on the rendezvous. What’s your status?”_

_“Our status is that we're getting shot at,”_ came JV's immediate reply. _“Got two Banshees on our six, can’t shake them. Think you can lend a brother a hand?”_

Zelda immediately zoomed in on his HUD. Sure enough, he spotted the telltale flashes of plasma fire.

_“Copy that, 7, we're on the way,”_ Odessa returned. _“6, on me! Pedal to the metal, let's go!”_

The two of them took off in the direction of their flightmates, dodging past ruined ships and dogfighting fighters. As they got closer to JV and 303’s position, Zelda could see that while neither of the two Broadswords were severely damaged, the amount of plasma fire being poured in their direction, it would only be a matter of time.

Without warning, Odessa dropped back so that Zelda was suddenly in the lead.

_“Hey, Zelda. I’ve decided to be magnanimous: you can take these guys out,”_ Odessa imperiously declared.

“Oh really,” Zelda sneered even as he lined up his shot. “How… generous of you.”

Before Odessa could respond, Zelda preemptively cut him off by yelling, “Fox one!” and fired his missiles. He watched as both Medusas streaked downrange and slam into the Banshees, blowing them up. “Targets down!”

_“Thanks for the assist, Odessa,”_ JV said as he and 303 immediately fell into formation behind Odessa and Zelda.

“Odes – motherfucker, **_I’m_** the one who shot them!” Zelda protested but before he could fully vocalize his complaints, Bellum's voice interrupted him.

_“Omega-5, Leader: what’s your status?”_

_“Leader, this is 5: I’m up with the rest of my flight. What's up?”_ Odessa replied.

_“5, Byzas Station is taking a lot of fire. They’ve already got Covenant onboard, but their command center is picking up the signatures of half a dozen inbound Phantom dropships headed straight for their main hangar. Do not let those dropship’s through, otherwise the station is lost!”_

_“Copy: we're on the way!”_

Growling under his breath at the constant interruptions, Zelda nevertheless followed Odessa as he led them back towards Byzas Station. As they made their approach, Zelda was finally made consciously aware of what was going on throughout the rest of the battlefield.

The entire area was ablaze with anti-aircraft fire as every single station, space platform, satellite, and fighter remaining in the defensive line was under heavy attack. Covenant fighters, dropships, and boarding shuttles were everywhere, firing their weapons, deftly maneuvering between the various defensive platforms and occasionally diving in and out to launch attack runs. UNSC forces were fighting back with every single weapon at their disposal doing their best to hold back the tide, and doing a credible job as attested by the growing fields of destroyed Covenant spacecraft. Unfortunately, it wasn't enough to completely stop the Covenant from launching one attack run after another, and more and more UNSC platforms and vehicles were beginning to go dark; in the distance, Zelda could see one support station just simply come apart as it took concentrated fire from multiple squadrons.

At the center of everything was Byzas Station. As the largest and most deadly of all UNSC assets, Byzas Station was taking the brunt of the attack. They were responding in kind, returning fire with every weapon system they had including their super MAC, but it wasn't enough: fire was raging across several sections and there were a number of hull breaches already. And as they drew closer, Zelda could see one entire side of the station was just covered in the purple hulls of Covenant boarding craft. How so many had managed to break through, Zelda wasn’t sure, but it wasn’t looking good.

Looking around, Zelda immediately spotted the Phantom dropships they were supposed to take out flying not too far away. The dropships were headed for Byzas Station's primary hangar, where her support squadron of Longsword fighters normally scrambled and were recovered from. At the moment, the hangar doors were sealed shut, but even as he watched, the Phantoms open fired with their nose mounted plasma cannons, causing the door to visibly shake.

“Got eyes on our objective!” Zelda warned. “Three o'clock, forty degrees, maybe three klicks away and headed straight for the main hangar!”

_“I see ‘em!”_ Odessa replied. _“Jesus, that's a lot of dropships. How many infantry you think are in there?”_

_“Standard Phantom dropship probably carries about thirty troops, depending on which species is in it,”_ JV immediately replied. _“Six total? We're looking at a hundred eighty plus soldiers. An entire infantry company.”_

_“...no freaking way Byzas has enough guys to fight them all off,”_ Odessa noted.

“Why we gotta make sure we kill them all before they can get onboard,” Zelda muttered.

_“Come on guys, are we doing this or are we just going to sit around talking all day?”_ 303 impatiently demanded to know. _“Let's **go.”**_

_“Alright,_ Zelda, _hold your horses.”_

Zelda sputtered indignantly. “What the- I didn’t even say anything!”

_“That's the joke, Zelda,”_ Odessa said a bit impatiently. _“Anyways, here's the plan guys: we approach from above where their guns can’t hit us. Each one of us takes one out on the first pass, see if the rest will scatter. If not, we regroup for a second one, though if you think you can get a shot, take it. Just be careful, gents: if we miss, we **will** be hitting the station and doing the Covies job for them. Got it?”_

“Yeah, yeah: that door's not going to last long, let's do this,” Zelda urged.

_“Alright: follow me in!”_

Odessa's engines flared as he threw himself into a wide loop and Zelda quickly moved to follow. He quickly found himself flying straight “down" parallel with the station. Several kilometers below him and closing in fast were the Phantoms. Even as he armed a few missiles, numbers began appearing over each Phantom.

_“You got your targets,”_ Odessa informed them. _“Lock on target and standby to ripple fire on my mark.”_

Zelda hastily looked for the Phantom that had the number “6” displayed over it, and slaved his crosshairs around the Phantom's cargo bay; because it was hollow in order to allow transport troops, if he did this right, he could literally cut the vessel in half.

_“Fire.”_

“Fox one!”

Zelda's missiles went screaming downrange. They slammed into the dorsal hull of his target, punching through the light armor and then detonated inside. Zelda could see chunks of debris and body parts get flung out into space as the dropship violently ripped itself apart.

Whipping past three other explosions, Zelda spun and twisted to avoid the return fire, though he wasn’t too worried about getting hit: the slow moving plasma bolts the Phantoms fired were more designed for stationary ground targets, not fast moving fighters.

“Splash four dropships!” Zelda triumphantly cheered.

_“Anyone got eyes on the remaining two? They peeling off?”_ Odessa asked.

_“I’ve got eyes!”_ 303 offered. _“Uh… looks like they’re still headed in!”_

“Persistent fuckers,” Zelda sneered under his breath just as Odessa declared, _“Alright, we’ll double back. 7 and 8, take out the one on the right, me and Zelda will hit the one on the left, copy?”_

_“Copy,”_ JV patiently replied. _“We're rolling in.”_

Jerking his stick to the side, Zelda twirled his fighter around and started climbing, only to immediately come under fire as the Phantoms picked up their approach and started frantically firing.

“So, who gets to be the lucky one to take this son of a bitch out?” Zelda asked as he casually avoided the fire.

_“Well… I did that take Seraph from you earlier,”_ Odessa admitted. _“So… go ahead.”_

Zelda was astonished.

“Now that, is the mark of a gentleman,” he said with a grin.

_“Yeah, yeah; just shoot him already, will you?”_

Zelda just grinned to himself as he lined up his shot. “Fox one!”

Zelda's missile sped downrange, causing the Phantom to frantically switch targets in attempt to shoot down the incoming projectile, however the nose turret of the Phantom wasn’t designed to hit something that small. Weaving its way past the incoming fire, the missile slammed into the Phantom's left side engine, causing it to lurch to the side.

“Shit,” Zelda muttered before switching to his guns. “Guns, AP!”

Tracer rounds crisscrossed the space between him and the Phantom. His initial burst actually missed because the Phantom was moving in a very erratic pattern in an attempt to compensate for a missing engine, however Zelda's second burst of cannon fire hit right on target, ripping open one of the cargo bay doors and causing all of the cargo inside to come spilling out.

Whipping past the failing dropship, Zelda glanced over his shoulder. A handful of Covenant infantry had been ejected into space, and he could see them helplessly flailing around as they suffocated to death. Zelda let another maniacal laugh. “Like punching a fucking baby!”

_“Anyone ever told you, you sound like a psychopath when you say stuff like that?”_ Odessa jauntily noted. _“Anyways, all targets are down. 7 and 8, rally on me and we'll- “_

_“Star Eagle Actual to any available UNSC fighter, come in!”_

_“Star Eagle, Omega-5: go ahead,”_ Odessa smoothly replied.

_“Omega-5, I need immediate fire support on my location. I’m pinging you several waypoints of Covenant locations. I need you to take them all out!”_

Zelda glanced around for the navigation markers in question, only to see…

_“Hang on, this can’t be right,”_ JV protested. _“Those waypoints are_ **inside** _Byzas Station!”_

_“Star Eagle, Omega-5: say again your last, over?”_

_“I need you destroy locations marked by waypoints, I got men pinned down by Covenant infantry over!”_

Zelda could hear Odessa hesitate. _“Star Eagle: you want us to blast holes in our own station?”_

_“Omega: that's an a-firm!”_

“That… Boss, that does not sound legit,” Zelda pointed out.

_“No shit. How am I supposed to know for sure though?”_

_“Odessa, get an authentication code,”_ JV urged.

_“Star Eagle, authentic your request, over.”_

_“Authentication code: Echo, Tango, niner, one, seven, Bravo, Zulu, X-Ray, five!”_

Zelda didn’t bother trying to type any of that into his computer because it was way too long, but fortunately he didn’t have to as 303 evidently did because he immediately exclaimed _, “Holy shit, that's Colonel Starobin!”_

“Who?”

_“He's the commander of Byzas Station, Zelda: this is legit,”_ Odessa distractedly replied. _“Star Eagle, I authenticate, Alpha Zulu. Star Eagle, be advised: if we start blasting holes I to the station's hull, those sections are going to be exposed to the vacuum of space.”_

_“I know!”_ Starobin replied a bit impatiently. _“My men are all equipped for EVA. You’re cleared to engage!”_

_“Copy, we're inbound, thirty seconds.”_

“Damn, we just took out a bunch of dropships too,” Zelda noted.

_“Must have been a lot of infantry onboard already, if they’re calling for fire support like this,”_ Odessa worriedly replied, before sighing. _“JV? You’re the most trained out of all of us in close air support: take the lead.”_

_“Understood, 5,”_ JV replied. _“303, you and me go in first, we'll take out the first target. 5 and 6? Cover us from fighters.”_

_“Copy."_

“Close air support on a space station in high orbit around a planet? What _is_ this day?” Zelda muttered to himself as he watched JV and 303 swoop in. They headed straight for the first Waypoint before JV fired a single missile and immediately broke off.

_“Star Eagle, Omega: missile away. Impact: thirty seconds.”_

Zelda glanced over to watch as the Medusa slammed into the side of Byzas Station right where the waypoint had indicated. There was a fiery explosion that dissipated almost instantly as the bulkhead wall erupted outwards, and Zelda held his breath. Fortunately, all he saw tumbling out were the neon colored uniforms of Covenant soldiers, and he allowed himself a sigh of relief. He had to admit, despite everything, he had still been a bit skeptical the call for help had been legit.

_“That's good effect on target,”_ Starobin was saying. _“Move over to sector three, waypoint Bravo: I got airmen reporting they’re pinned down and taking heavy fire from two Hunters!”_

_“Copy, Star Eagle. First team is pulling away now, second team is inbound, one mike.”_

_“I presume that's us,”_ Odessa commented as he led the two of them on an attack vector towards the target. _“How you want to do this, Zelda? You want me to shoot, or you wanna do it…?”_

Zelda let out a derisive snort. “Captain, if I wanted to provide close air support to friendly troops, I would have been a mud mover, not a rockstar. You do it.”

_“Okey then. On final approach. Missile is armed, I’m locked on target… missile away! Thirty seconds to impact.”_

There was a flash of an explosion and as they whipped past, Zelda was just barely able to see inside the breach. By the looks of it, they had fired into some sort of atrium or lobby as Zelda could just barely make out the sight of Covenant soldiers taking cover behind some sort of potted plants or trees.

_“That didn’t look good,”_ Odessa observed and Zelda knew Odessa had managed to see the same thing he had

“No kidding: looks like these Covenant were actually equipped for EVA fighting.”

_“Maybe that's how they boarded,”_ Odessa suggested as they peeled away. _“They did a spacewalk over.”_

_“Omega, Star Eagle: we need you to repeat that fire mission. The missile was on target, but had minimal effect. You got anything bigger?”_

_“Copy that, Star Eagle: we got some ASGM-10 anti-ship missiles we can use, over.”_

“Goddamn, that’s like using a fucking sledgehammer against a fly,” Zelda muttered to himself as Starobin spoke up.

_“Yeah, Omega, that should work!”_

_“Copy that Star Eagle, break. Omega-7, did you copy all that?”_

_“Affirmative, 5. I got some 10s left. First team is- ah, fuck! We just picked up the signatures of five Banshees escorting a couple of dropships, inbound to our location!”_

_“7 and 8, move to intercept, 6 and I will deal with this. As soon as we're done, we'll come and join you!”_ Odessa immediately ordered. _“Zelda, you gotta take this shot: I’m Winchester on 10s.”_

“Goddammit, it’s all a conspiracy, isn't it!?” Zelda complained before letting out a loud huff. “Fine, I got it.”

_“Sorry.”_

“Shouldn’t have wasted that missile stealing my kill,” Zelda grumbled before in much loud voice, “Star Eagle, Omega: we're inbound, one mike out.”

Reaching out, Zelda armed his missile then carefully began aiming. “Hey, Odessa! Bet you thirty credits I can put this missile right through that hole.”

_“You’re on, Zelda.”_

“Easy money,” Zelda bragged as he started to pull the trigger.

_“Star Eagle to Omega: ABORT, ABORT, ABORT! We just detected an antimatter charge among that group of Covenant! Your missile could set it off! ABORT THE STRIKE!”_

Zelda immediately slammed his hand on the cancel button, but it was too late. With a loud _clunk,_ his missile left the rails and sped towards the station.

“Ah, shit,” Zelda swore before grabbing his stick and breaking off, trying to put as much distance between him and station.

There was a brilliant blue flash and -

* * *

General Notes:

Ships mentioned in this chapter:

**UNSC _Canberra:_** this is a canon ship that made its first appearance in _Halo 2_ where it was serving as the flagship for Fifth Fleet which was stationed around Earth in 2552. According to Halopedia, it’s possible the ship was named after US Navy cruiser the USS _Canberra,_ which was named after a Royal Australian Navy ship of the same name, which in turn had been named after the Australian capital city Canberra.

Other Notes:

**Squid:** this is a US military derogatory nickname for members of the Navy. One possible origin that I’ve seen on the internet for this term is that it comes from the 60’s, when a lot of sailors on the West Coast of the United States were buy Japanese motorcycles that were being imported into the country. But because a lot of the time they didn’t know how to ride motorcycles, much like how a squid (the animal) can swim very fast in a straight line but not turn very well, so too did those sailors. (Not mentioned in this particular story I read, but I also imagine the cyclists would also be leaving a black tire skid mark in their wake as they attempted to brake, similar to the way a squid will release black ink in its wake when frightened in an effort to confuse predators.)

**Admiral Harper:** Harper in this chapter is intended to be canon character Joseph Harper, who first appeared in _Halo 2._ In that game, Harper is a fleet admiral who is in charge of Fifth Fleet which includes his flagship, _Marathon-_ class heavy cruiser UNSC _Canberra._ (He’s the one that wants to charge straight into the Regret’s fleet the moment it arrives in the Sol System, and is only held back by Fleet Admiral Lord Terrence Hood.)

Obviously, with this story taking place seven years before the events of _Halo 2,_ Harper isn’t a fleet admiral, nor is he in charge of an entire fleet, but I figured he could still potentially be in command of the UNSC _Canberra._

**Mud Mover:** a USAF slang term for any attack aircraft such as the American A-10 “Thunderbolt II” (better known as the “Warthog,”) or the Russian Su-25 “Frogfoot.”

**Winchester:** a USAF brevity word meaning “out of a particular type of ammo,” or “out of ammo in general.” So, in this case, Odessa was reporting he was out of ASGM-10 type missiles, but he still had Medusas and rounds for his cannons.


	8. Landfall

**Heliopolis Station, High Orbit, Actium**   
**May 6, 2545**   
**0957**

**Spaatz**

Spaatz mutely watched as the Covenant swarmed around the remains of JTF Byzas. His men were giving it their all, causing countless casualties among the attacking Covenant, but they were quickly becoming overwhelmed. More and more stations and units were going dark by the second as they were destroyed or otherwise rendered ineffective. It was not an easy thing to watch.

But the worse part of it all was, there wasn’t anything Spaatz could do about it. This was the plan, after all. He needed the Covenant to break through at a spot of _his_ choosing in order to tie them down to a single location so D’Amboise’s forces could then pound them into oblivion. Otherwise, there was no telling what sort of damage they would be able to do.

But to sit here and watch his troops die and not even be able to send reinforcements…

Unexpectedly, there was a brilliant blue flash and his video feed of the battle suddenly disappeared.

“What the hell just happened!?” Spaatz demanded to know.

“Antimatter charge, sir!” Kanin reported. “Sensors are indicating an antimatter charge was just detonated somewhere within Byzas Station! Station is gone!”

Spaatz grimly hung his head, but nevertheless had to ask, “Are the _Covenant_ aware of that fact!?”

_“Slipspace rupture, detected.”_

Spaatz turned back to his tactical display in time to see an entire battle group of Covenant warships emerge just in front of JTF Byzas' area of responsibility. Without hesitating, they plowed into the melee and began firing on all UNSC ships and assets still remaining.

“I would say the answer to that is pretty evident, sir,” Kanin mutely replied as all UNSC forces scrambled to reorganize in the face of the renewed assault.

Spaatz sighed.

“Order whatever remains of JTF Byzas to fall back,” he commanded as he watched a series of Covenant corvettes pull up and begin launching all sorts of drop pods and dropships to the surface. “And alert all aerial and ground commands: they have a _lot_ of incoming.”

**XXXXX**

**Actium, May 6, 2545**   
**1000**

_"Orbital Defense Command to NORTHCOM, be advised we're picking up massive amounts of Covenant drop pods and dropships inbound to your AO. ETA, two minutes to impact."_

_"Copy that ODC, we see them too. Interrogative: approximately where are those craft going to touch down, over?"_

_"Trajectory of all incoming places them as landing within the southern to western metropolitan areas of the city of Byzas within the Thracia Province, over."_

_"Solid copy, ODC. Any idea on numbers?"_

_"Uh...satellite network is mostly down, but estimates place Covenant landing force at approximately several thousand strong within the first wave, with far more to come."_

_"Understood ODC. NORTHCOM, out. Actium Northern Command to all military headquarters: Covenant landings detected in the southern, south western, and western Byzas metropolitan areas. All military commands are hereby ordered to immediately counterattack - do not allow the Covenant to obtain a lodgement!"_

**XXXXX**

**Byzas, Thracia Province**

**Marcus**

_**SWOOOOOOSHHHH WABOOM WABOOM!** _

The ground shook as more and more Covenant drop pods landed within the city limits. Looking directly south, maybe less than a thousand meters away, Marcus could see smoke rising from where the pods were hitting. The crackling of automatic weapons fire could be heard as the nearest units immediately responded to the Covenant landings.

Marcus hunched down behind the wheel as much as he could. Despite sitting inside a heavy armored vehicle, he had never felt more fragile, more vulnerable in his life. He was still trying to figure out what had happened. One moment, he and his new team were being sent south to the city of Byzas to supply some anti-air units with some more ammo, the next, the Covenant were making landfall less than seven blocks away! How!? Wasn’t the Navy supposed to keep them back? Or, if not them, then the Air Force!?

Where the heck were all their ships!?

“Es una cosa muy seria, es una cosa muy seria,” Dresden was muttering from the seat next to him.

“THEO! WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU SAYING!?” Orlović nervously demanded from his spot in the turret ring.

“It’s something old-world American World War Two photographer Robert Capa would say,” Dresden yelled back. “‘Es una cosa muy seria.' It means ‘this is a very serious business’ in Spanish!”

“NO SHIT! Goddammit, EVERYBODY, GET THE FUCK OUT OF THE WAY!”

“Marcus, blow your horn, see if you can’t get these civilians out of our way,” Dresden ordered, and Marcus nervously did as he was told. Dozens - if not hundreds – of civilians were running down the roads and sidewalks in the opposite direction, trying to flee the coming onslaught. Marcus was tempted to join them; and probably would have if it weren't for the fact his HEMTT was currently hemmed in between a Byzas City Police car and several UNSC Army Warthogs.

 _"This is Major General Alexander Gilbert of the UNSC Army's 53rd Armored Division,_ " the military officer who had drafted them was saying over the radio. _"I want defensive lines and road blocks set up on every intersection of 5th Street, Hague Street, and 9th Street! Designate them as Phase Lines Apache, Iroquois, and Mohawk! Use whatever personnel you've got on hand! We have got to contain this situation before the Covenant can get their bearings!"_

Glancing in his side mirrors, Marcus could see the two-star general that was riding shotgun in the Warthog directly behind them toss his radio aside, then began angrily yelling something at the person sitting behind him, though Marcus was too far away to hear what it was.

“Oh god, ohgod, ohgodohgod,” Marcus couldn’t help but mutter under his breath.

“Breathe, Marcus, breathe,” he heard Dresden urging him over the sound of his increasingly frantic mutterings.

“Sarge? We're not going to die, are we?” Marcus had to ask, even if he was afraid of what the answer might have been.

“Not on my watch,” Dresden replied, sounding so confident that Marcus couldn’t help but relax just a bit. “Listen, Marcus, it’s going to be okay: we're going to set up a series of defensive lines to hold back the Covenant long enough for every single Shortsword bomber on this colony to show up and blow them all to hell. All you need to do is relax, breathe, and do exactly what I tell you. Can you do that for me, Marcus?”

Marcus took a deep, ragged breath, and tried to relax before bobbing his head. “Yes, sir, I think I can do that.”

“Good man!” Dresden jauntily said, giving Marcus a friendly slap on the shoulder just as they heard Gilbert ordering, _“Striker Actual to all Striker Victors: halt, halt, halt! We're setting up headquarters, right here!”_

“Alright, Marcus, pull the Rig to the side,” Dresden immediately ordered. “Grab your rifle and dismount! Orlović! DISMOUNT!”

Bobbing his head, Marcus popped open his door and hopped out, almost falling to the ground as he landed on his wobbly legs. Turning around, he reached to remove his rifle from its mount in the door, nearly dropping it twice in a row, before gripping onto it tightly, as if it could magically teleport him away from this area. He hurriedly moved to join Dresden and Orlović on the sidewalk as the soldiers in the Warthogs began unpacking their vehicles and setting up weapons, radios, computers, and other electronic equipment.

As they worked, Marcus looked around at the intersection they had stopped at. To his surprise, a number of soldiers were already there, setting up a road block barricade made out of a combination of abandoned civilian cars and sandbags.

_**BOOM!** _

Marcus nearly pissed himself in fright at the sound of a low explosion going off nearby, and he glanced around only to spot some sort of tank that he had somehow missed when pulling up, sitting in the middle of a side road. The tank's single barrel was pointed straight up, practically at a ninety degree angle, and as Marcus watched, they suddenly fired again.

_**BOOM!** _

“160mm mortar!”

Marcus jumped once more as Dresden seemed to just appear beside him. “What?”

“That's an M1121 self-propelled 160mm heavy mortar!” Dresden repeated, pointing at the tank. “It’s capable of lobbing a forty kilogram shell that’s got more explosive power than a 155mm howitzer some seven klicks away! That’s a lot of firepower right there!”

“Fuck yeah!” Orlović cheered from nearby. “Hope these damn cannon cockers kill them all!”

Marcus couldn’t help but nod in agreement.

“SERGEANT DRESDEN!”

Marcus flinched and looked around wildly at the call, only to see Gilbert gesturing at Dresden.

“Sergeant Dresden! Put your HEMTT with the rest of the barricade, it's no good to us now!" Gilbert barked, and Marcus immediately moved to obey, but Dresden quickly stopped him.

“Its okay, Billy will get it!” he yelled to be heard over the increasing sounds of fighting in the distance. “You come with me: let’s go see what else the General wants us to do!”

He gestured for Marcus to follow him as he stepped off the sidewalk and headed over to Gilbert, who in turn had wandered over to where the soldiers who had arrived before them had assembled.

“General Gilbert, commanding officer of the 53rd Armored! Who's in charge here?”

"That would be me, sir!" among the group setting up the barricade, a young woman raised her hand and she immediately hurried over. "2nd Lieutenant Zahara, 1st Battalion, 109th Infantry Regiment of 1st Brigade, sir!”

“What’s the situation here, Lieutenant?”

“I got elements of my mechanized infantry platoon, along with elements of my forward support company! We're hitting the Covenant DZ with everything we got, but those drop pods are hitting the ground faster than we can kill them! Covies have already overrun first, third, and fourth streets, and we're trying to hold fifth! We're setting up a tertiary defensive position here, as well as every single intersection on this road, fifteen blocks in either direction!"

"Alright, as you were!" Gilbert barked and Zahara nodded, before running back to her men. Another soldier, one that Marcus recognized as Gilbert's driver, came running up. 

“Sir, with all due respect, I think we’re setting up your headquarters a little too close to the frontlines. May I suggest we pull back at least another four or five blocks?”

“Negative, Sergeant Major! We need all the soldiers we can get our hands on manning these phase lines, and that includes us! We also need someone of sufficient rank to pull the chain on all the firepower we can get onto that drop zone and as fortunate has it, the Covenant decided to drop right next to my HQ! No, it’s got to be us, but I’ll pull back as soon as one of the brigade commanders makes it here and relieve me! In the meantime, tell Colonel Hudgens to get on the radio and start getting all the air and artillery support we can get our hands on! Everyone else, start reinforcing these barricades! BPD!”

Marcus looked around to see one of the Byzas city cops that had been leading their convoy come running up.

“Yes, sir?” the officer said, sounding scared but determined nonetheless.

“Officer Riddle! Get these civilians out of my line of fire!”

“On it, sir!”

Riddle ran off, and Dresden seemed to take that as a sign for him to step up.

“General, sir!” he respectfully yelled. “Where do you want us?” He gestured at himself and Marcus.

“You militiamen got any more weapons besides that gimpy of yours?”

“Only small arms, sir! We're logistical support - 88M. Truck drivers!”

“What about combat training?”

“I’ve got combat experience, sir, but not my men!”

Marcus could see Gilbert nodded before he gestured at Riddle's wake. “In that case, get your gimpy set up on the barricade, then I want you and your men helping the BPD, Sergeant! Direct these civilians to safety!”

“Yes, sir! Where’re we directing the civilians to?”

“Back thataway! My chief of staff has got some buses coming to evacuate them! Just get them out of my line of fire!”

“Sir!”

Dresden grabbed a hold of Marcus' arm and dragging him a bit away. “Hey! I’m going to go help Billy set up real quick, okay! You go help Officer Riddle! I’ll be right back!”

“Wait!” Marcus cried out before Dresden could leave. “What am I supposed to do!?”

“Whatever Riddle tells you!” Dresden called back as he dashed away.

Marcus shivered and looked around. Maybe it was just his imagination, but the roar of gunfire and incoming drop pods seemed to be growing louder by the second, while the stream of civilians didn’t seem any smaller than it was a few minutes ago. He hurried over to Riddle, who was standing nearby talking to another officer and what appeared to be an armed civilian.

“Where are we supposed to bring them, Kingsley?” Riddle was asking her fellow officer.

“Just get them over the military barricade! We got city buses coming by in a few minutes one block down to pick them up, and deliver them straight to the evacuation zones!”

“Roger that, LT!”

Kingsley ran off and Riddle threw one last dirty look at the armed civilian before turning to run off. Before she could leave, Marcus hastily stepped up.

“E- excuse me, Officer?” Marcus couldn’t prevent his voice from cracking and he flushed with embarrassment as both Riddle and the armed civilian turned to stare at him. “I'm, uh, I’m supposed to help you? With the civilians?”

There was a pause before the armed civilian immediately started laughing. “Jesus, we really are scrapping the bottom of the barrel, aren't we? Have your balls even dropped, kid?”

“Shin, if you’re not going to help, you don’t get to talk,” Riddle snapped. She glanced at Marcus, looking him up and down, before nodding. “What's your name?”

“Marcus – I… I mean, Private Olsen.”

“Alright, Private Olsen, come with me!”

Marcus nervously nodded his head and followed Riddle as she vaulted over the barricade and ran towards the nearest group of civilians.

“HEY!” he heard her screamed. “EVACUATE THIS WAY!”

She gestured over her shoulder. At once, a group of civilians turned and ran towards her.

“Come on!” she yelled, urging them over the barricade. “Keep on moving this way, this way!!!”

One young lady carrying a small child in her arms and holding onto the hand of another paused as she ran by.

“Where are we supposed to go once we’re through!?” she asked over the sound of her daughter's crying.

“City buses are coming to pick everyone up and deliver you directly to the evacuation zone!” Riddle yelled. “Go down one more block!”

“Thank you! Jason, come with mommy!”

“Hang on, I got you! Olsen, help me!”

Watching as Riddle swoop down to grab the boy, Marcus stared awkwardly at the lady, wondering how he was supposed to help her. Fortunately she seemed to notice his hesitation.

“Can you grab my bags?” she asked as she struggled to hold onto her crying daughter.

Marcus nodded and eagerly grabbed her bags. Together they all dash over to the barricade where Marcus watched as Riddle lifted the boy onto the top and start to lower him to the ground, only she appeared to be too short to reach.

“Hey! Someone grab this kid from me!” he heard her yell. “HEY!”

Someone must have heard her because she abruptly let go of the kid and gestured for Marcus to step up. Marcus hurriedly dropped the bags onto the ground and moved to help the lady and her daughter over, but he couldn’t do it with his rifle in hand so he quickly leaned it against the barricade.

“Shin! We got two people coming over: woman and child!” Riddle yelled as Marcus carefully helped the lady and her child over.

“Got her!” Marcus heard Shin yell back.

“You finished?” Riddle impatiently demanded as Marcus quickly handed the bags over. “We got more people to help! Come on!”

Nodding, Marcus followed Riddle as she ran back out onto the street screaming, “Everybody! Come this way! THIS WAY!”

Another large crowd of civilians turned in her direction and started streaming her way as she gestured wildly at them. Marcus stepped aside to allow them room to pass, looking up in alarm as the sound of the fighting in the distance was rapidly growing in intensity.

_**SWOOOOOOSHHHH WABOOM!** _

Marcus stumbled as more Covenant drop pods came screaming in, causing everything to shake as they hit the ground and sent plumes of smoke up into the air. Looking up, he saw a number of civilians fall to the ground, including one older looking lady who dropped the suitcases she was awkwardly carrying, one of which burst open upon hitting the ground and spewing its contents all over the road.

“Crap!” he yelped and glanced at Riddle for guidance, but she was distracted helping someone else. Realizing it was up to him, Marcus dashed over to the lady to help out.

The lady was on her hands and knees, desperately trying to recover all her stuff, but it wasn’t easy as another crowd of civilians were running by and on the verge of panicking, they kept accidently kicking her stuff out of the way.

Shoving his way through the crowd, Marcus dropped to his knees to try and help the lady out. The lady looked up, noticed Marcus' uniform, and seemed to perk up.

“Thank you, Soldier!” she yelled.

“No problem, ma'am!” Marcus automatically yelled back, until he noticed what he was actually throwing back into the lady’s bag: squeaky toys, fancy costumes, cans of designer dog food...

Looking at the three suitcases the lady was carrying, Marcus realized that at least two of the three appeared to be packed with all the same things.

“No offense, ma’am, but I don’t think you’re really going to need all this stuff!” Marcus hesitantly told her.

“Oh, they’re not for me dearie, they’re for Mr. Pickles!” the lady lifted up her last bag, causing Marcus to realize it wasn’t a suitcase like he had originally thought, but some sort of carrying bag for a small lap dog.

“Ma’am, I don’t think there’s going to be that much room on the transports,” Marcus said, frantically racking his brain, trying to remember all the movies he had seen that involved evacuation transports. “I don’t think you’re going to be able to bring all these bags with you!”

“But Mr. Pickles needs them! You see, he’s got a very weak stomach, and can only eat specific types of food, so this bag has all his grain-free salmon that he loves so much! We don’t know if we’re going to be sent somewhere cold or someplace warm, so I had to bring his jacket that he looks so cute in! And –“

_SWOOSH SWOOSH SWOOSH!_

Marcus reflexively dove for the ground, and then looked up as two military VTOLs passed by overhead, firing rockets in the direction of the landing site. Emptying their rocket pods, they started to turn away, but then a bright green streak came up from the ground and smashed into one of them. The VTOL immediately caught fire and went spiraling to the ground, disappearing behind some of the buildings and Marcus could swear he heard screaming.

The other VTOL immediately made a hasty retreat, and Marcus shivered in terror and turned back to the old lady in time to hear her say, “ – and these are his treats for being such a good boy!”

Marcus stared in disbelief at her. Here they were, in the middle of a full scale invasion, and she was talking about dog treats?

“Ma'am!” Marcus found himself yelling, cutting the lady off. “Listen to me! You cannot take all this stuff with you!”

And then, in a terror induced fit of anger, he grabbed her bags and hurtled them to the side.

“Take your dog and run! NOW!” Marcus demanded.

The lady drew herself up in a huff.

“How rude,” she chided, instantly making Marcus feel guilty, but thankfully, did as she was told. Gathering her pet dog, the lady ran off in the direction of the barricade.

Marcus wasn’t able to dwell on his guilt for long as the sounds of the fighting continued to grow, not just in intensity, but proximity. And yet, somehow the stream of civilians headed his way had yet to die down. In fact, their numbers seemed to be _growing_. How could there be this many people in the city?

“SIR! SIR!”

Marcus' head snapped around as a young man, who looked to about thirteen or fourteen, came running up to him.

“Sir, give me a gun!” he demanded. Marcus stared blankly at him.

“What?”

“Give me a gun, I want to help out!” the man, or rather boy, eagerly demanded. “I can help!”

“Er… I don’t… think I can do that, kid,” Marcus hesitantly replied.

“TOMMY! TOMMY!”

Another man came charging up the street with a young girl in tow. Based on how similar he looked to the boy, Marcus felt it was safe to assume this was the young boy’s father.

“Tommy, what are you doing? We have to leave, _now!”_

“You leave dad!” Tommy insisted. “I’m staying! I can help out! Just give me a gun! Granddad showed me how to shoot a gun once, I know what I’m doing! I can help!”

“Tommy, these are professional soldiers out there and they do not need a little kid running around distracting them!”

“I’m not a little kid, dad! I’m fourteen; I’m probably going to be drafted soon enough, so why does it matter if I start a few years early?”

“God dammit Tommy, this is not up for discussion! We are leaving, right now!”

“Tommy, we need to leave!” his little sister cried out.

“No!” Tommy insisted. “I. Can. Help! Sir, just give me a gun!”

“Sir, no!” Tommy’s dad yelled before Marcus could say anything. “You cannot give this boy a gun! I am his legal guardian and I am not giving permission for him to get drafted!”

“It’s not up to you dad!”

Marcus stared at the two civilians as Tommy continued to argue with his family. He wasn’t sure of what to do. Honestly, he was half tempted to give Tommy his gun and let him fight on his behalf, and Marcus knew that thought should have filled him with shame, but the truth was it was taking all of Marcus' resolve not to start running for the evacuation zone right now.

Fortunately, it was at this point Riddle came running up.

“What's going on here?” she demanded to know and Marcus gratefully ceded control.

“Officer, give me a gun! I can help fight!” Tommy immediately said before his dad could say a word.

“What? Are you out of your mind? No!” Riddle immediately said without hesitation.

“But I can help - !”

“LISTEN!” Riddle loudly said. “I don’t have time for this! Kid, no I’m not giving you a gun! This is not a video game, you don’t have the training or the equipment to hope to stand against the Covenant! Go with your dad and get out of here!”

“Tommy, come on!” his sister insisted, tugging on his hand, but Tommy refused to relent.

“I don’t have to have a gun then!” Tommy persisted. “I can help out in other ways! I can be like, a stretcher bearer or something! Or a… a powder monkey! Yeah! I can give you guys ammo and stuff when you run out!”

“No means no kid!” Riddle screamed, even though Marcus couldn’t help but be a bit jealous at the kid's resolve.

**_BRAKKABRAKKABRAKKA!!!!_ **

All five of them jumped in surprise at the sound of a very big gun overhead. Marcus looked up to see some sort of military attack jet ejecting flares and pulling out a strafing run.

“You see that!?”

Marcus turned to see Riddle pointing at the jet. “That’s what we need more than infantry! So unless you can fly one of those things, the only thing you’re going to be is a liability! GO! Get out of here!”

Marcus could see Tommy's resolve was weakening, but to Marcus' surprise, rather than give in, he turned to look at Marcus with a questioning look on his face.

“Whoa, don’t drag _me_ into this!” Marcus automatically blurted out.

The look of pure incredulity Riddle gave him immediately made Marcus regret his answer, but Riddle didn’t say anything and instead, shouted, having evidently lost her patience, “Kid, get out of here. NOW!”

At that, Tommy finally gave in and allowed his father to drag him away. As soon as they were out of earshot, Riddle whirled around so quickly, Marcus found himself reflexively jumping back.

“Are you serious? _That_ was your answer?” she angrily snapped. “Are you out of your _mind!?_ We're not letting a kid fight for us!”

Marcus stammered but fortunately didn’t have a chance to say anything as Riddle’s head suddenly snapped up, and Marcus instinctively looked to see what she had saw.

The stream of civilians was finally slowing down, but in their stead, a large amount of uniformed soldiers were coming down the street. It was getting a bit harder to see as all the smoke and dust from the landing site was beginning to filter through the streets, but as they drew closer, Marcus could see they were all wounded in some way or another.

“Come on!” Riddle yelled and without a thought or care for her safety, ran towards the incoming soldiers.

“Come on guys, come on!” Marcus heard her yell, but Marcus, frozen in fear, just stood there as the soldiers began streaming past.

All sorts of soldiers were being carried on stretchers, or their buddies’ backs. Others were capable of walking, but they had to be supported by their comrades. Some of the soldiers’ injuries had already been dressed and bandaged up, but many of them hadn’t. There were all sorts of third degree burns, vicious gashes, and there was at least one guy whose entire leg had been blown off. Marcus tried to avoid staring at some of the more horrific wounds, but given how many of them there were, it was almost impossible to avoid.

“CAN I GET SOME HELP HERE!?”

Marcus looked up to see Riddle run towards two wounded soldiers, one of which was leaning heavily on the other, staggering down the street. She grabbed the other arm of the wounded soldier and wrapped it around her shoulders, trying to pick up some of the weight, but she was too small and the three of them nearly fell over.

Feeling immensely guilty, Marcus forced his feet to move, hurriedly dashing over and tapping Riddle on the shoulder. She quickly moved out of the way to let him take over. The wounded man, whose face was covered in blood and had a number of bandages wrapped around his abdomen, barely reacted.

“Thank you!” the other man called out, and Marcus glanced in his direction, only to almost immediately puke: he hadn’t noticed at first, but evidently at some point, the soldier had been hit in the side of his face, causing his eyeball to pop out of its socket, but not severing it, leaving it to hang off the man’s face by the optical nerve.

“How bad is the fighting?” he heard Riddle asked as he did his best not to lose the contents of his stomach.

“I don’t know!” the soldier admitted. “It’s getting harder to see! All those drop pods keep throwing more and more smoke into the air!”

“RUN! RUN!”

Marcus jerked in alarm, only to see a crazed looking soldier staggering down the street, blood streaming out of his ears, screaming at the top of his lungs.

“RUN FOR YOUR LIVES!” he was screeching. “THEY’RE GOING TO MURDER YOU! THEY’RE GOING TO MURDER US ALL! THE REAPER IS HERE! DEATH HAS COME FOR US ALL! THE APOCALYPSE IS UPON US! RUN! **RUN!”**

Marcus could see a couple of medics emerge from the barricade and run towards the soldier. Together, they managed to tackle the man, and began to quickly dress his wounds.

“RUN! SAVE YOURSELVES!” the man hollered, even as one of the medic injected him with something. 

“REPENT! REPENT!” he continued to sob as Marcus walked past.

“Shin! I need help!” Riddle called out as they reached the barricade. Marcus could see Shin extending his arms and he quickly passed the wounded soldier over to him, waiting until he had grabbed him before letting go.

“Thanks! Good luck guys!” The other man called out, even as he clambered over the barricade.

“You too!” Riddle yelled at the departing soldier’s back.

_**SWOOOOOOSHHHH WABOOM!** _

Marcus let out a loud squeak as another few Covenant drop pods came screaming in, this time coming the closest they had yet so far. As he threw a nervous glance down the street, he was startled to find that the stream of wounded soldiers had ended, and instead, there were now unwounded soldiers running down the street.

“Fall back!” he heard one yell while another turned around and fired an extended burst from the hip back up the street. At this point, the smoke had reached the barricade, making it impossible to see what the soldier was shooting at.

“Marcus!”

Marcus jumped as a hand grabbed his shoulder, and he turned to see Dresden standing behind him.

“Come on, we got to get behind that barricade, the Covenant are coming!”

Marcus nodded and tossed himself over the barricade, and found himself wedged between Dresden and Lieutenant Zahara.

“Copy that Hoplite 1-1!” the woman was yelling into her radio. “Fall back to tertiary positions, now! General Gilbert! Secondary defense have fallen! There’s nothing standing between us and the Covenant now!”

“Got it! All soldiers! Take up firing positions! Ready your weapons, but don’t fire until I give the word!”

Marcus looked around as a number of soldiers dashed up to the barricade and began setting up, including Orlović, who threw himself onto the ground on the other side of Dresden.

There was a loud shriek of metal on asphalt, and Marcus looked up to see the self-propelled mortar that had been sitting on the side road lower its cannon and immediately back up, retreating down the road.

“Look at this bullshit!” Orlović screamed. “The fucking tank is leaving us! It’s fucking abandoning us! FUCKING PUSSIES!”

“It's not a tank, it’s a self-propelled mortar, and even if it wasn’t completely out of ammo, it still wouldn’t do us any good on the frontline!” Dresden yelled. “No, we're on our own for now! Get your weapons ready and prepare to defend yourself! …Marcus! Where the hell is your rifle!?”

Marcus started and racked his brains.

“Um… I don’t remember,” he sheepishly admitted. Dresden and Orlović stared at him.

“Are you fucking serious, dude!?” Orlović exploded. “We got Covenant less than two blocks away – what were you going to do, _shout at them!?!?”_

“Orlović, enough,” Dresden insisted though Marcus was terrified to see he was frowning. “Give him your rifle.”

“You need both hands for the gimpy,” he snapped before Orlović could protest, “and we need all the guns we can get. _Give it to him.”_

“I better get this fucking back, dude,” Orlović grumbled. “Don’t fucking drop it!”

Marcus mutely took the offered rifle, doing his best not to drop it with his shaking hands. He opened his mouth to offer his thanks when Gilbert suddenly yelled, “MAKE READY!”

Feeling like his heart was suddenly in his throat, Marcus quickly looked downrange. The street was now completely covered in smoke and dust, limiting visibility to maybe about fifteen meters. The sound of fighting continued to ring out, but it was muted, as if it was taking place several blocks away. Even the sound of the incoming drop pods seemed to have died down. 

“Steady!” Gilbert yelled out, but his voice seemed somewhat tempered.

Marcus strained his ears, praying upon praying there wasn’t anyone actually coming, and that this was just one giant mistake. Somehow, it didn’t make him feel any better when he realized he couldn’t hear anything but the sound of blowing wind.

Then, he heard it: the rhythmic thumping of hundreds of feet charging straight towards them...

“raaaaaaaaaaAAAAAA _HHHHHHHHHH_ **HHHHHHHHH!”**

Emerging from the smoke came all sorts of monstrous creatures from deep within the Covenant Empire! Howling, screaming, and waving all sorts of weapons around, they charged headlong straight at the assembled UNSC forces.

"FIRE!"

The entire line exploded as every single soldier simultaneously opened up with everything they had!

Marcus immediately dropped Orlović’s rifle to slap both his hands over his ears as the noise of all the gunfire alone left him devastated. He found himself automatically curling up in a terror-struck ball as fighting exploded all around him.

“Billy! Get that Jackal on the right!” Dresden was screaming.

“Oh shit, Elite, ELITE! GET THAT SON OF A BITCH!”

_BAM! BAMBAMBAMBAMBAMBAM!_

“GRENADE!”

“Argh! I’m hit! MEDIC!”

Screams and gunfire and explosions all began to intermingle around Marcus, so much so he couldn’t figure who was saying what and who was shouting. A small part – a very small part – was tempted to get up and see what was going on, but that part was drowned out by the rest of his brain, urging him to find some covers to hide under.

“I want fire superiority!” he heard Gilbert screaming in the background. “Pour it on them!”

“Get that slippery bastard with a grenade!”

“Jesus Christ, they keep coming!”

“Die motherfuckers, die- ah, shit! Theo, I’m reloading! COVER ME!”

“FRAG OUT!”

There was a muffled explosion and Marcus could feel the heat on his face. Then, someone grabbed his shoulder.

“Come on, Private! Stand up!”

The face of Lieutenant Zahara suddenly appeared over him.

“Get on your feet, soldier!” she was screaming. “Get up, Pri- _GUK!”_

Marcus let out a loud scream of terror as a pink needle suddenly speared Zahara right through the throat, and exited out the other side. Blood began gushing from both holes as Zahara bonelessly collapsed to the ground, a look of surprise and shock plastered across her face.

“NO! PLEASE, NO!” Marcus screamed. He smelled something foul coming from himself and he was pretty sure he just soiled himself, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. “I wanna go home! I WANNA GO HOME!”

“Gah! I’m hit low!”

“Fuck, fuck, he got me in the arm, that fucking prick!”

“Sniper! Red compound, on the roof, on the roof! Behind that snow bank! Nail his ass!”

“Mama Goose, Mama Goose, fire mission, over!”

“Get some! Get some! RAHHH!!!!”

People continued to scream and shout and cry and fight all around Marcus, but he couldn’t bring himself to help out, frozen with fear as he was. Out of the corner of his eye, he was vaguely aware of someone running up and awkwardly dragging Zahara's body closer so that she was in the shadow of the barricade, before that same figure turned to Marcus and said something, only he couldn’t hear what it was so he shook his head and refused to move in the hopes that the monsters wouldn’t get him, they wouldn’t get him, ohgodthemonsterswerecoming-

The left side of his face exploded in pain and he felt his head snapping to the side. Touching his face, he suddenly realized he'd been slapped, and he stared in astonishment at Officer Riddle, who was crouched right in front of him.

“Hey!” he heard her yelled sounding surprisingly calm despite the situation. “I’m Officer Selene Riddle, Byzas Police Department! What’s your name, Soldier!?”

“O… Olsen. Private Olsen.” Marcus was tempted to point out this wasn’t the first time they were meeting, but his brain refused to formulate the words.

“Hey, nice to meet you Private Olsen! Listen, I need your help! I don't have the medical training to deal with this!" she yelled, pointing at Zahara. “We got to get her to a hospital, otherwise she's going to die, but I can't pick her up by myself! I need your help! Can you do that?"

Marcus blankly stared at her. For some reason, it felt like his brain was suddenly made of molasses.

“’A hospital?’" he asked, feeling like that was a word he should know but for some reason, his brain wasn’t making the connection.

"Yes! A hospital! You know, a, uh... a MASH?”

Marcus blinked. Wasn’t MASH a TV show? Something about an Army hospital unit? Why was Riddle bring this up now, of all times? What did she want?

“Do you mean… a hospital?” Marcus hazarded a guessed.

For some reason, Marcus got the feeling Riddle really wanted to roll her eyes just then, but she somehow refrained. “Yes! A hospital! Come on, we need to go!"

A hospital. Hospitals were in the rear. The rear was where it was safe. Yes!

Marcus leapt to his feet and ran over to Zahara.

"Grab her shoulders!" Riddle commanded, grabbing Zahara by the legs. Together they lifted the body up and started heading down the block. They were making good headway when the sound of heavy thumping filled the air.

"HUNTERS!" someone screamed and Marcus turned around to see several _massive_ creatures charging down the street straight towards the barricade. Each creature looked like one of the armored knights from old, only these _things_ were about three to four meters tall, had bright orange skin, were completely clad in dark blue armor, and while they had some tower shields strapped to their arms, instead of swords, they had _humongous_ arm cannons.

The soldiers manning the barricade all scattered as the Hunters smashed into it, cutting through the cars like a hot knife through butter. One unfortunate soldier found himself landing right between one of the Hunter's legs, and he quickly raised his rifle and emptied the magazine, only to have all the bullets bounce off. In retaliation, the Hunter lifted his shield and swiftly brought it down on the man's head. All Marcus heard was a terror-filled scream before it was abruptly cut off as the shield literally cut the man vertically in half.

At that sight, Marcus lost whatever resolve he had left.

"FUCK! THIS!" he screamed, dropping Zahara's body and running in the opposite direction. Behind him, he could hear the Hunters firing their weapons.

_**BOOOOSSSSHHHHH! BOOOOOSSSSHHHH!** _

"MARCUS, LOOK OUT!" someone screamed.

Marcus glanced over his shoulder. The last thing he saw was a stream of radiative green fire headed his way.

_**BOOOOOSSSSHHHH!!!** _

* * *

General Notes:

 **Old-World American** : in canon, the United States of America no longer exists, having been absorbed into a new political entity known as the “United Republic of North America,” which not only consists of the remains of the U.S.A, but also that of Canada and Mexico. Because of that, I figured in speech, “American" would refer to citizens and residents of the new URNA, whereas “old-world American" would refer specifically to citizens of the former United States.

 **Robert Capa** : is a real historical figure. As a war time photographer, he is most famous for being the only civilian photographer to land on Omaha Beach on June 6, 1944 (D-Day) where he managed to capture eleven photographs of the fighting that took place on Omaha Beach that day. According to Capa himself, he actually captured over a hundred pictures that day, except all but eleven were accidentally destroyed during the developing produce by an overly excited staff member. However, that claimed has been called into question in recent times, and it has been suggested that Capa only actually captured the eleven photographs, and the story regarding the staff member is false.

 **M1121 Self-Propelled Mortar** : this is not a canon vehicle. As the name implies, it’s intended to be a self-propelled heavy mortar with a single barrel and turret mounted on a Scorpion MBT chassis similar to the real-world Soviet Union 2S9 Nona or the Finnish NEMO system.

A note on the 160mm mortar: in real life, there have only been three countries that have built and or operated 160mm mortars: the Soviet Union (and Russia,) Finland, and Israel. There admittedly isn't much of a point to them in the current era because while they are capable of lobbing a shell with as much explosive power as a 155mm howitzer, 160mm mortars don’t have nearly the range nor accuracy, and the entire system still weighs close to 2500 to 3000 pounds (about 1170 to 1300 kilograms) which, while making it lighter than most 152/155mm howitzers, is still too heavy to move around easily. However, they seemed cool to me so I decided to throw them in.

 **Gimpy** : nickname for a “general-purpose machine gun,” or “GPMG.” This is actually a British Army term.

 **MASH** : in the US Army, MASH stands for “Mobile Army Surgical Hospital” that was first developed in August of 1945, but it didn’t see major use until the Korean War. After the war, a surgeon by the name of Hiester Hornberger Jr., under the pen name of Richard Hooker, decided to write a novel using his experiences in a MASH unit during the war titled _MASH: A Novel About Three Army Doctors_. The novel was adopted into a film titled _M*A*S*H_ in 1970 that proved to be a critical hit, and was later adapted into famous TV series _M*A*S*H_. As for the actual MASH, the last MASH unit was deactivated in 2006 and replaced by a similar unit known as a combat support hospital (or CSH.)

In the Halo Universe, I figured there was probably a remake of the classic show at some point, just updated so it’s set during the Human-Covenant War (and containing far more ONI approved propaganda,) even if the UNSC Army itself probably doesn’t use the term.


	9. Hold the Line

**Southern Byzas Metropolitan Area**   
**Thracia Province, Actium**   
**May 6, 2545**   
**1023**

**Tariq**

_“ – Pathfinder units reporting large group of civilians – thirty to forty strong – are pinned down by Covenant forces at the provincial sheriff's station located at Maple Ave and Greenly Boulevard. Requesting an Osprey be sent in to extract them, over.”_

_“Negative 5, LZ is too hot - we're not risking a bird just for them. Wait for ground forces, over._

_“C2, 5: understood. Interrogative: ETA on ground troops?”_

_“Spearpoint reports ETA to AO… zero niner mikes… Gunslinger 5, you’re cleared to do what you can from the air, over.”_

_“Wilco- **shit!** Taking ground fire, taking ground fire!”_

_“C2, 5, this is 1: I got eyes on Covie plasma cannon set up on the roof of that rec center just off of Route 123, over.”_

_“1, C2: copy that, we got eyes on. Gunslinger 2, come in and take them out.”_

_“C2, are we sure that building has been cleared of civilians, over?”_

_“It doesn’t matter. We have Covenant on the ground, WINTER CONTINGENCY protocol is in effect… we have authorization to level this entire town with everyone still inside it, if it comes to that. The Covenant cannot be allow to expand their lodgment…”_

Tariq shivered at that last part. He had seen firsthand what happened when military demands were placed ahead of civilian lives, and it wasn’t pretty. Yet, at the same time, he had to sympathize with those rotor-heads: the Covenant didn’t give a damn about collateral damage and because of that, the UNSC couldn’t either.

 _“Okay, crew, listen up!”_ Buckley called out over the tank’s internal communications system, distracting Tariq before he could go down that line of thought. _“Surveillance from CAB is indicating the Covenant are beginning to push out from Byzas into the metropolitan areas with long-range reconnaissance units. They’re only armed with light scout vehicles and crew-served weapons, but if they get a chance to dig in, they’ll be almost impossible to dislodge. We can’t let that happen.”_

_“Area we’re about to hit is a suburban location: mostly residential, some public works, and commercial buildings. Which means we got to be careful: Driver, there’s going to be a lot of places that can’t support our weight, so try to avoid going off road. Gunner, we’re going to have limited sightlines, so head on a swivel. Check?”_

“Check,” Tariq replied.

“Got it!” Koroma called from his position at the front of the tank.

Tariq immediately leaned forward and planted his face onto his gunner’s sight. Cameras mounted on the outer armor of the vehicle fed directly to his HUD meant he could have a three-sixty view of the exterior of the tank without having to actually poke his head outside, but it was his experience that when it came to looking for threats, nothing beat looking through his gunsights and physically turning the turret around.

Settling in, Tariq turned his focus back to the radio once more, as elements of their CAB flying and engaging Covenant forces some three klicks ahead of them continued to call out threats and targets.

_“3, 2: we’re marking the location of where that Ghost disappeared with our 20mils. Can you take out the building with a missile, over?”_

_“Copy; locked on target, missile off the rails.”_

_“1, C2: we’re tracking what appears to be a small team of provincial sheriffs pinned down by sniper fire coming from the top of the general store in the southwestern quadrant. Come in from the east and see if you can’t provide them with fire support, over.”_

_“Roger, we’re shifting location.”_

_“C2, 5: we got Covenant foot mobiles taking cover under the I-270 overpass however we’re unable to engage with 20 mike mike. We can engage with Scorpions, but we might damage the bridge. Please advise, over.”_

_“Drop the bridge on them.”_

_“Say again your last, C2? Aren’t the ground forces going to need that bridge?”_

_“Priority is to eliminate Covenant positions at cost of local infrastructure. Spearpoint has bridging units attached to them if need be. Engage all hostiles: drop the bridge on them, over.”_

_“Wilco.”_

“Hey, LT!” Tariq called into his microphone as a thought occurred to him. “What’s our plan of attack once we get to the objective area?”

 _“Our orders are to capture the town of Newington!”_ Buckley immediately replied. _“Once we do that, we find a hole, dig in, and wait for reinforcements!”_

“Wait, we’re not going to immediately push into Byzas?” Koroma asked, sounding surprised. Tariq immediately let out a derisive snort.

“You kidding me, kid? A single armored battalion not even supported by artillery pushing into a city as big as Byzas? You trying to get us all killed?” he snapped.

 _“As Sergeant Helmand has pointed out, Specialist,”_ Buckley began, _“a reinforced armored battalion like ours isn’t equipped for a MOUT attack, especially in a city as dense as Byzas. Which is why, as soon as we get reinforced by the rest of 2nd Brigade, 1st and 4th Brigades positioned north of the city will sweep in instead and force the Covenant out of Byzas and in our direction where we’ll kill them all.”_

 _“_ But what about all the people living in the city?”

_“If they can get out before the Covenant bring the hammer down, then great, but if not… unfortunately, there’s not a whole lot we can do for them now. Just focus on your job, Driver, and we’ll do the best we can, check?”_

“Hooah, sir,” Koroma replied, though Tariq could tell he was a bit troubled by what he was hearing.

Tariq resisted the urge to snort once again. Replacements: they were all the same. All piss and vinegar until they found out what it really took to defeat the Covenant. Hopefully Koroma would learn, sooner, rather than later.

Turning his focus back to his radio, he managed to hear just in time one of the Sparrowhawk pilots reporting, _“C2, 5: be advised, we are Winchester with Scorpions, I say again, we are Winchester with Scorpions. Requesting permission to RTB and rearm, over?”_

_“Permission granted, break. All Gunslinger victors, report status, over.”_

_“C2, Gunslinger 1: 100, 3, and 25%, over.”_

_“C2, Gunslinger 2: 76, 1, and 27%, over.”_

_“C2, Gunslinger 3: 110, 2, and 30%, over.”_

_“Copy that. All Gunslinger victors, RTB for immediately refuel and rearmament, break. C2 to Spearpoint, be advised, air support is returning to base. You’re going to be flying blind here until unit Outlaw arrives on station in zero three mikes, over.”_

_“C2, Spearpoint: copy that.”_

“Hey, LT!” Tariq called into his mic. “You catch that? Air support is peeling away; we’re going to be going in blind!”

_“Got it! 2-1 to all Cataphract-2 vehicles: head’s up, air cover is going dark for a few minutes. Give me three hundred and sixty degree coverage, ladies and gentlemen, and stay frosty! Gunner, point the main gun forward and cover our frontal arch, I’ll cover our left flank with the RWS. Eyes and ears, gents!”_

Grabbing hold of his controls, Tariq panned the turret until it was pointed directly forward. With their tank on point, his main concern was about attacks coming from their direct front. Hopefully the rest of the platoon had the good sense to cover their left and rear flanks – fortunately, with the rest of their company advancing parallel to their position on the right, they didn’t have to worry about attacks coming from that angle.

Slowly panning the turret from left to right, Tariq resisted the urge to reach for a cigarette. While light vehicles and infantry were normally no match for Grizzly tanks, experiences in the past had taught him that Covenant infantry were surprising skilled at causing a large amount of damage even to the heaviest of armored vehicles, so the last thing

Tariq wanted to do was get distracted. Fortunately, at the moment, the streets seemed abandoned. Even the civilians seemed to have –

Tariq paused. “Hey, LT!”

_“Go ahead.”_

“Was this area evacuated of civilians beforehand?”

_“I doubt it. Covenant only made landfall within the last thirty minutes; before that, there wouldn’t have been any indication where they were going to hit so Command wouldn’t have been able to figure out which areas needed to be evacuated first.”_

Tariq could feel his throat tightening, and he forced himself to swallow. “If that’s the case, sir, then where are all the people?”

He could hear Buckley let out a sudden intake of air. _“Cataphract, this is Cataphract 2- “_

**_BOOOOOSSSSHHHH!!! CLANG!_ **

Tariq jumped in his seat as a fuel rod cannon abruptly exploded against the side of their turret, encasing his sights in radioactive green flames and throwing blobs of burning plasma in all directions. At once, all hell seemed to break loose as blue, green, and purple streaks filled the air, seemingly coming from all directions, and the radio practically exploded with chatter.

_“Contact, CONTACT! Direct front – “_

_“- taking small arms and fuel rods – “_

_“ – the fuck did they come from!”_

“Holy _shit!”_ Tariq heard Koroma cry out in alarm as plasma bolts splattered against their armor fortunately doing no damage but creating one hell of a light show. For his part, Tariq didn’t even bother to wait for orders: he immediately removed the safety switch to his coaxial machine gun and began returning fire even as the tank slowly grinded to a stop.

_“Driver, keep going, keep going! Cataphract this is Cataphract 2, be advised we have been engaged. Contact initiated against Covenant foot mobiles two klicks south of Phase Line Yellow. Taking small arms and fuel rod cannon fire, enemy strength currently unknown, break! Gunner, enemy contact, second story, red brick building on the left, two blocks down. Put an HE round through that fucking wall!”_

Tariq immediately switched over to his main cannon. Grabbing his controls, he elevated the barrel, doubled checked his range finder, and primed a high explosive round. “On the way!”

**_WABOOM!_ **

The entire tank shook as one of the barrels to the main cannons recoiled, sending a twenty-three kilogram high explosive shell downrange at nearly fourteen hundred meters per second. The shell immediately smashed through the wall, throwing chucks of brick in all directions, and exploded within the room.

_**BOOM!** _

_“Gunner, squirt that shit down with your coax, make sure all those fuckers are dead,”_ Buckley was ordering even before the first piece of debris had a chance to hit the ground. _“We need more guns in this fight – 2-2, take the left lanes and move up alongside us, we’ll advance parallel together. 2-3, watch the left and make sure the Covies ain’t trying to outflank us. 2-4, watch our six!”_

_“Wilco, 2-1!”_

Switching over to his coax, Tariq made sure to put about three dozen rounds into the building before rotating his turret to find something else to shoot at. As he worked, he could hear the tank’s autoloader kicking in, popping open the breech to the depleted barrel and shoving another shell inside. In a manner of seconds, both his cannons were ready to fire.

“Contact, direct front!” Koroma suddenly bellowed and Tariq immediately swiveled his sights to the road in front of them, just in time to spot a Covenant Grunt appear from behind an abandoned garbage truck some two blocks away, with a fuel rod cannon pointed straight at them. Tariq instantly thumbed the trigger to his coax.

Tariq sent a few quick burst downrange which sent the Grunt diving for cover, though most of Tariq’s bullets ricocheted off the heavy grade steel that made up most of the garbage truck’s body, throwing sparks every which way but failing to penetrate.

 _“Hit that thing with a HEAT!”_ Tariq heard Buckley order and without letting up with his coax, he leveled his cannon once more and – 

“On the way!” he roared and pulled the trigger.

The entire tank shook once more as the main gun was fired, however this time it was the right barrel that recoiled. The HEAT shell slammed into the garbage truck’s hydrogen fuel cell, rupturing it and causing the entire vehicle to go up like it had been armed with an airdropped bomb. Tariq wasn’t actually sure if the Grunt had been killed in the explosion, but he didn’t have time to check as a Ghost reconnaissance vehicle abruptly appeared around the corner with an Elite in the driver’s seat and two Grunts desperately clinging onto the back support as it went tearing off in the opposite direction it had come from. Without thinking, Tariq sent an HE shell after them, but the Ghost jerked to the left at the last second and the shell missed, hitting a nearby house instead.

 _“2-1, 2-2: looks like the Covenant are breaking contact and falling back. Do we pursue, over?”_ Tariq heard the commander of 2-2 asking over the radio.

 _“Hell fucking yeah,”_ Buckley snapped. _“Driver, forward!”_

 _“Cataphract 2, Cataphract Actual: belay that order!”_ Lightfoot unexpectedly interjected. _“Covenant are probably attempting to lead us into another ambush. 2-1, I want you to take your platoon as well as Dragoons 3-2 and 3-4, go two blocks down and flank around on the left – see if you can’t catch the Covenant by surprise. Meanwhile, I’m going to take the rest of Cataphract and a mortar detachment from Lancer and lay down suppressing fire, over.”_

 _“Actual, 2-1: roger wilco,”_ Buckley quickly replied. _“Cataphract 2, Dragoon 3-2 and 3-4: change of orders, we’re flanking left. 2-2, you’re in our way so you’re on point. We’ll follow up behind. 3-2 and 3-4 will follow, with 2-3 and 2-4 securing the rear. Move out! Driver, left turn, left turn! Gunner, pop smoke!”_

Tariq immediately did as he was told, thumbing his trigger and in just a few seconds, a thick cloud of black smoke was covering the road, concealing their movement from Covenant eyes.

 _“2-1 to Platoon: keep your ears up and your eyes open, people,”_ Buckley commanded. _“Rest of Cataphract might be keeping the Covies pinned down, but we don’t know how many are actually around!”_

“Hey!” Tariq called out. “Hey, kid! Make sure you maintain a minimum distance of about ten meters between us and 2-2. We don’t want to stick our noses up their asses in case they need to maneuver.”

“Got it!”

_“Gunner, you scanning for targets?”_

Tariq hastily planted his face back into his gun sight. “Affirmative!”

He hurriedly panned the turret left to right, but as it turned out, there wasn’t really any need. Based on what he was seeing, Tariq could only conclude that either the Covenant weren’t here in force, or they hadn’t made it to this section of the town yet, or both, as the neighborhood was completely untouched by war. In fact, if it weren’t for the complete lack of people and the signs that they had left in a hurry, Tariq might have thought it was just another Tuesday morning.

Snowmen and other snow sculptures built by bored kids over the weekend still covered many a lawn. Colorful decorations surrounded the front of houses in celebration of the winter solstice or Christmas, or whatever the hell it was people celebrated nowadays, making Tariq somehow feel like he was tripping on acid, too used to the dark grays and blacks that normally blanketed a battlefield. Bright artificial lights still spilled out from uncovered kitchen and living room windows, revealing the interior of several homes, including one whose kitchen table was decked out in birthday party decorations, complete with cake. The cake's candles were even still lit, suggesting the occupants of the house had only fled moments ago.

All in all, it was a rather depressing scene, one that Tariq had unfortunately experienced before.

 _“2, this is Actual: come in, over,”_ Lightfoot unexpectedly said over the radio after several minutes of silence, save for the sound of gunfire in the distance.

 _“Go ahead, Actual,”_ Buckley replied.

_“2, Outlaw has identified what they believe to be a large group of Covenant soldiers at marked location setting up an ambush along MSR Odin. They don’t appear to be aware of your location, giving you a perfect opportunity to outflank them. Set up position on the west flank and standby. FiSTers are calling in an airstrike from two CM SkyHawks, once those bombs go off, you are to advance and eliminate the remaining survivors. Rest of Cataphract will roll up from the southeast. How copy, over?”_

_“Actual, 2-1: we copy your traffic. Request you give us five minutes to get into position before calling in the strike, out. Driver, halt. All tanks, halt and hold position. 3-2, 3-4: push up and begin deploying infantry. Gunner, head on a swivel.”_

There was a shrieking of brakes as Koroma brought the tank to a halt. Scanning the buildings that surrounded them, Tariq watched out of the corner of his eye as two M432 “Armadillo" IFVs rolled up on their right to the front of the column. As soon as they were there, they grinded to a halt and dropped their ramps. At once, the infantry inside began pouring out, including Chenko, who looked decidedly disgruntled at having been forced to leave his warm and safe armored box.

Tariq couldn’t help but snicker under his breath; that was what Chenko got for becoming a crunchie.

_“2-1, Dragoon 3-2: last man is out.”_

_“This is Dragoon 3-4, doughs are on the ground!”_

_"Copy that Dragoons. All IFVs fall back into formation. Infantry squads, form up behind your assigned tanks and standby to advance. 2-4, take 2-3 and head up the right, I’ll take 2-2 and head up the left.”_

_“Copy, 2-1,”_ Tariq heard over the radio. _"Moving now."_

Buckley waited a couple minutes for the infantrymen to scramble into position. _"Driver, forward! Slow though, don't outrun the infantry. All Cataphract-2 vehicles, advance!"_

With a rumble, all vehicles started crawling forward.

_“Cataphract, this is 2-1: we're in position and on the move, over.”_

In lieu of a response, Tariq heard one of the FiSTers saying instead, _“Vulcan, this is Spearpoint: requesting airstrike on previously established grid location. Target is large concentration of Covenant infantry taking cover inside an office building. Be advised, we've got friendly armor rolling in from both the west and southeast, as well as friendly birds operating in the north, so on approach, come in from directly from the southwest, over.”_

_“We copy your traffic, Spearpoint: friendly forces operating within vicinity of target, approach direction direct southwest. We are inbound, time to target: sixty seconds to drop."_

**_FWOOZFWOOZFWOOZ!_ **

Tariq jerked in his seat as out of nowhere, a plasma cannon abruptly opened up on them. The tank's hull was lit up as plasma fire raked over them. Presumably the Covenant were aiming for the infantrymen behind them, only the tank was in the way.

"Fuck!" Buckley yelped as he ducked back into the tank. Tariq could hear plasma hitting against his hatch as he slammed it shut. "Contact! Enemy plasma cannon, second floor, left building! Driver, continue forward. Gunner, hit that building!"

Tariq looked around. “Sir, I don’t see where that fucking fire is coming from!”

“Marking with RWS!”

_Bambambam!_

Tariq could hear the heavy machine gun mounted by Buckley's hatch going off, but he was too distract to see where Buckley was shooting by the sight of an Elite running out onto the street in front of them.

"Contact front!" Tariq warned as he open fired with his coax. Tracers skipped across the street and slammed into the Elite, causing its shields to light up and the Elite quickly dove for cover, but not before hurtling a grenade in their direction. “Grenade!”

Koroma abruptly gunned the tank, lurching forward and position the vehicle right over the grenade as it landed on the ground. Tariq could feel the slightest of rumbling as the grenade detonated, but he barely noticed as a radioactive green spike struck the window to one of his periscopes with an audible _TONK_ , causing him to involuntarily flinch.

"Foot mobiles behind the corner of the last building on the block, front right!" Koroma called out.

"Got them!" Tariq yelled, spotting the two carbine-equipped Skirmishers firing on them. "These idiots do realize just because we deployed infantry, it doesn't change the fact we're still a fucking tank, right!?"

"Who the fuck cares, Sergeant, just shoot them!" Buckley snapped.

Chunks of masonry fell to the ground as Tariq's machine gun fire chewed up the wall, and he was pretty sure he saw one of the Skirmishers grabbing at his eye as they both ducked back. "They fell back around the corner! Sir, want me to expend a HEAT to take them out?"

"Negative! 3-5, hit that wall I'm suppressing with a couple of grenades!"

_“Got it. Frag out!”_

Tariq turned away to search for the original plasma cannon as two 40mm HEDP grenades flew downrange and smash into the wall, knocking it down. One of the infantry guys started suppressing the corner with his SAW.

“Watch that right flank, Gunner! Where the fuck is our airstrike?”

As if on cue, the screaming of incoming jet engines could be heard over the sound of fighting and then, _“Cataphract, Vulcan: bombs away, bombs away, bombs away.”_

“All Cataphract-2 victors: halt, halt, halt!” Buckley hollered.

The airdropped bombs came screaming in and perhaps it was Tariq's imagination, but he could have sworn he heard the whistling of the wind rushing past the fins on the bombs as they disappeared behind some of the buildings. A millisecond later –

_**WABOOM! BOOOM!** _

The ground shook as both bombs detonated in quick succession, the shockwave rippling down the streets and shattering windows and setting off car alarms as a cloud of black smoke shot into the air. Over the sound of the explosion, Tariq heard someone say, _“Vulcan, Cataphract: good effect on target!”_

_“2-1, this is 2-4, over.”_

“Go for 2-1!” Buckley roared.

_“Sir, it looks like the Covies are breaking contact and falling back!”_

“Hunt them down: do not let them get away!” Buckley immediately ordered. “Dragoon 3-5, Covies are pulling back, though if they’re retreating or trying to lure us into another ambush, we have no idea. Move out, and start clearing the way for us!”

 _“Copy, 2-1,”_ Tariq heard Chenko immediately reply. _“Alright boys, we’re in business! Bravo Team, move up the left flank! Alpha Team, on me, we’ll take the right! Just like how we did it in training, ladies, let’s take it nice and smooth. Watch your corners and move it out!”_

Through his sights, Tariq watched as the two teams of infantrymen slowly begin to advance down the street.

“Driver, follow them! Make sure they don’t get further than nine to ten meters away! Gunner, as of right now, Sergeant Chenko is your forward observer! He calls it out, you shoot it! Everyone, keep your eyes peeled, I’m going back up top!”

Tariq could hear the commander’s hatch opening up behind him though, to be honest, at this point he really wasn’t paying attention. Just based on the volume of fire coming their way, as well as surveillance reports from their CAB, most of the Covenant in the area had been killed, and now it was just a matter of hunting down the few remaining stragglers.

Unfortunately, getting to this point was the easy part. Now they had to dig in, wait for reinforcements and then hope – no, pray, that the Navy and Air Force would be able to hold back the rest of the Covenant fleet.

**XXXXX**

**High Orbit, Actium**

**Zelda**

_"Attention all call signs, we are being overwhelmed here! We got Covenant fighters and warships all over the place! All UNSC warships, fall back to sector one three nine and rally on the_ Canberra! _All fighters, cover us as we attempt to reorganize!”_

The general wide transmission washed over Zelda, but he barely gave it any heed as he was currently having problems of his own.

 _"WARNING, INCOMING PROJECTILE. WARNING, INCOMING PROJECTILE,"_ his computer chimed.

"Chaff," he spat, then threw himself into a spin as the fuel rod cannon exploded somewhere behind him.

"Okay, you think you can take me on motherfucker!" Zelda angrily yelled. "You think you can shoot me, 1st Lieutenant Link Kepler down!? You want to see what I'm made of? I'll fucking show you what I'm made of!"

The Banshee he was fighting against, obviously didn't respond but instead opened up with its plasma cannons. Zelda deftly dodged around a hunk of space debris and sped towards cover.

"Cover" in this case was the burnt out hulk of what used to be an Air Force attack transport. The ship had been hit several times by plasma torpedoes, boring holes through the armor and forcing the crew to abandon it. Unfortunate for the crew, however it was something Zelda could use to his advantage right now.

Flying through one of the breaches, Zelda thankfully found himself inside the ship’s empty hangar. Being a fraction of the size he was, the Banshee could have easily followed him in, however the Split-lip pilot decided to remain outside and unload on the hole, as if they expected Zelda to turn around and fly out the same way. Which, to be fair, was what any sane pilot would have done. Fortunately for Zelda, he was anything but _sane_.

Punching his forward facing thrusters, Zelda came to a halt before he crashed into the far wall, then did a full ninety degree turn to the left. Prior to entering the wreck, Zelda had already mapped out where all the hull breaches were, and he immediately sped to the nearest one that was large enough for his fighter to fit. As he flew through the burnt out corridors, he was confronted with clear evidence that not all of the transport’s crew had been able to escape, but he ignored the frozen bodies that smacked against his canopy and focused on flying straight.

Emerging from a breach in the front of the transport, Zelda immediately executed a full one hundred eight degree flip and found himself confronted with the Banshee's underside, which was still busy unloading his weapons on the hole Zelda had entered through.

“What up dickwad?” Zelda sneered, then promptly opened up with his main cannons.

The 35mm shells smashed into the Banshee’s underside, easily carving its way through the armor and the Banshee erupted into a blue fireball before the Elite pilot even realized he was under attack.

"Dumbasses," Zelda muttered to himself as he banked away and started looking for the rest of his flight.

_"Zelda, INCOMING NINE!"_

Zelda jammed on his forward thrusters and stopped his fighter just in time as a plasma cannon bolt rocketed past in front of him and slammed into the side of the attack transport, blowing another hole into the wreck. Zelda gritted his teeth as chunks of metal were ripped out and hurtled in his direction, and he frantically punched in his thrusters to try and get on the other side of the wreck. Stray plasma cannon shots aside, this side was getting crowded with all these warships and sitting in a crossfire was no place for Zelda to be.

Doing a half barrel roll to the right, Zelda flipped over the wreck and into its shadow. His proximity alarm pinged, causing him to tense up, but it was only the rest of his flight.

 _"6, you good?"_ Odessa asked.

"Just got my feathers singed, but I'm good."

_"Good, because we just got cleared hot to engage that corvette. Stack up on me! Longswords will punch a hole for us, all we got to do is hit it! Understood?"_

"Yeah, all we got to do is stick it in the right hole, right?" Zelda glibly noted.

 _"Something I hear you have problems with sometimes,"_ Odessa joked.

"Shut the fuck up, Odessa."

 _"Guys, is now really the time?”_ JV asked, sounding exasperated.

_"Omega-5, this is Byzas 4 and 9, we are beginning our attack run, over."_

_"Copy that, Byzas,_ ” Odessa replied, instantly becoming serious, _“we're right behind you. Flight, **EXECUTE!"**_

Zelda immediately banked to the right and dove, following Odessa as they launched themselves towards their target, a Covenant corvette some three hundred kilometers below them. Ahead of them, Zelda could just barely make out the two Air Force Longsword gunships from Byzas Squadron swooping in on an attack vector. 

In unison, the Longswords began firing at the same spot on the hull, trying to blast a hole into the corvette’s armor for Zelda and the others to exploit. Armored plating and other metals shards were thrown into space as both Longswords fired over twenty shells apiece from their 110mm rotary cannons in the span of less than a minute.

But while the corvette’s shields had been disabled, its weapons hadn’t and as the Longswords started to pull out of their run, a pulse laser turret suddenly emerged from the corvette’s hull and open fired on the Longswords. Byzas-4 was immediately hit, with the pulse lasers shearing off an entire wing and causing the Longsword to go crashing right into the ship where upon it promptly exploded. The surviving Longsword quickly broke away, shooting off towards the relative safety of the rest of the task force. Annoyingly, the Covenant manning the turret let him go, choosing instead to focus on the approaching Broadswords instead. 

_"Look out, those lasers are still active!"_ 303 warn as the turret began firing. 

Really?" Zelda sarcastically muttered as the area around them began lighting up from near misses. "Thanks 303, I hadn't noticed." 

_"5, we're not going to be able to pull off our attack if we have to evade,"_ JV noted. 

_"I know! 7 and 8, break off and take out that turret! 6, with me, we'll continue our run!"_

"Copy, 6 on you Leader."

_"Copy, Leader! 7 and 8, breaking off!_

Ahead of him, Zelda watched JV and 303 pull out of formation and speed straight towards the pulse laser turrets. At less than a thousand meters away, they both fired a series of missiles and then quickly peeled away before the turret could zero in on them. 

The turret spotted the incoming missiles and turned to deal with them, quickly trying to shoot them down before they could hit. Explosions lit up the sky as the turret managed to destroy the initial salvo, but unfortunately for the Covenant, they weren't able to intercept them all. Two missiles slammed home, hitting the turret right at the base, ripping the mount right off and launching the turret into space.

_"Omega-5 and 6, you’re free and clear!"_

_"Copy! 6, standby to release your payload on the target on my mark!"_

Zelda clicked his microphone in acknowledgement as he angled the nose of his fighter directly at the hole the Longswords had created, trusting his targeting computer to determine the most optimal angle of approach. At the same time, he reached up to pull a lever and waited until his HUD indicated his bomb bay doors were open. 

_"MARK!"_

Zelda jabbed a button on his control stick, and a hissing sound filled his headset as a short spurt of pressurized gas ejected the bombs from their hardpoints and out of the weapons bay. Because of his forward momentum, the bombs continued to fall towards the corvette, even as Zelda hastily peeled away. 

"Bombs away, bombs away, bombs away," Zelda announced over the radio, shutting his bay doors. He quickly punched in his afterburners to clear the area. Behind him, he could see his four Mark 210 general purpose bombs heading straight for the flaming hole in the corvette's hull, joining the four Odessa had launched only seconds before. Then - 

A series of explosions ripped through the corvette's hull as all eight, one thousand kilogram bombs detonated. The corvette’s hull visibly bulged outwards before seconds later, the ship began to decompress, violently venting atmosphere and all manner of debris from the breach. Zelda was too far away to conduct a proper BDA, but he figured the blow must have been critical as almost immediately, all weapons on the corvette ceased firing.

_"Omega Leader, Omega-5: I got eyes on eight hits, I say again, eight hits on target 4-Bravo. BDA to follow, break. 7 or 8, you got eyes on?"_

_"This is 303, I got eyes. Standby... that was good effect on target, 5. I’m seeing multiple fractures forming in the target's main keel, and the crew appears to be abandoning ship!”_

_“Copy. Omega Leader, target 4-Bravo is trashed, I say again, 4-Bravo has been destroyed. Scratch one more corvette!”_

Zelda let out a loud scoff.

“Yeah, one corvette down, only a hundred more to go,” he sarcastically sneered under his breath, even as he pulled away from the dying ship and headed back to where the heaviest of fighting was taking place.

_“Bravo Flight, come in: this is Omega Leader, do you copy?”_

_“This is Omega-5, go ahead!”_

_“This quadrant is fucked,”_ Bellum bluntly stated. _“We have Covenant all over the place. Command's ordering the fleet to pull back to sector one three niner in an attempt to reform our lines, and we're being ordered to cover them. Rally on me!”_

_“Copy, we're on our way.”_

_“Any word on reinforcements?”_ 303 suddenly asked.

_“According to Command, they’re ‘on the way.’ Whatever that means.”_

“Means they aren't coming,” Zelda snarled before catching himself. What was he whining for? He was the best pilot in the entire system. Maybe the entire Air Force. He didn’t need help.

The four of them sped off in the direction of the rally point, which was centered near the UNSC _Canberra_. As the most powerful ship still remaining in the area, she was the focus of most of the Covenant fire. Already Zelda could see she was embroiled in a fight against damn near five separate Covenant warships. Not only that, she was getting swarmed by Seraphs.

 _“We gotta take out those fighters so the_ Canberra _can concentrate her firepower on those warships!”_ Odessa yelled. _“If the_ Canberra _goes down, we all go down! Split up into pairs: hit them hard and fast!”_

 _“That's a lot of fighters; are you sure you want to split up like that?”_ JV immediately asked.

“Worried you won’t be able to handle a few fighters by yourself, JV?” Zelda did his best not to sneer, but it was a near thing.

_“No, but if we're not careful, we could easily be overwhelmed.”_

_“Unfortunately, that's exactly what's going to happen,”_ Odessa reluctantly replied. _“We got to draw the attention of as many fighters as we can; the more focused they are on us, the less likely they are to focus on the_ Canberra.”

“Should be easy,” Zelda noted. “Them Elites are all about ‘honorable duals' and shit. Their Seraphs and Banshees much rather fight against other fighters, not warships.”

_“That's what I’m afraid of.”_

_“We don’t have a choice,”_ Odessa interrupted. _“These are our orders. 7, take 8 and cut to the right. 6, we'll go left!”_

Without hesitation, Zelda jammed his stick to the left, following Odessa as they dove towards the fighting. It was pure chaos. Massive warships the size of cities were exchanging fire at a frantic rate while small, one-man snub fighters maneuvered their way between them at breakneck speeds. The black void of space was filled with an assortment of colors and flashes. Meanwhile, surrounding everything was a rapidly expanding cloud of space debris.

“Fuck, man,” Zelda muttered under his breath, and he couldn’t help but ask, “Odessa, you sure this is a good idea?”

 _“Not really,”_ Odessa admitted, _“but like I told JV, we don’t really have a choice. Hey, watch it! I’m picking up a squadron of Seraphs headed straight for the_ Canberra's _stern! Think they’re going for their engines!”_

Zelda popped his neck. “Guess it’s time to earn our paychecks, huh?”

_“That’s the spirit. Hey, remember to stay out of the red zones and follow me in! Lock onto the same two targets I am: let’s take out as many as we can on the first pass.”_

Zelda grunted in acknowledgement as he eyeballed the five Seraphs flying perpendicular to them some several dozen klicks below them. Locking as many missiles as he could onto the two Odessa had designated, he waited for the order.

_“Ripple fire… ENGAGE!”_

“Fox one!” Zelda roared. “Guns, AP!”

Missiles began spitting out from the bottom of Zelda's Broadsword at a frantic pace, even as he switched over to his cannons and unloaded a full hundred shells at the Seraph. The Seraphs must have been distracted by the _Canberra_ because they didn’t even activate their countermeasures or even evade until it was too late: as Zelda watched, his missiles and shells slammed into two of the Seraphs, quickly overwhelming their shields and turning them into scrap.

“Ha!” Zelda cheered as the remaining Seraphs scattered. “That got their attention!”

_“Yeah, let’s not celebrate just yet! Evasive maneuvers!”_

Zelda immediately threw himself into a spin as plasma began exploding all around him. Glancing over his shoulder, he noticed the surviving Seraphs had suddenly appeared on his six and were now doing their best to shoot him down.

“Come on motherfuckers!” Zelda taunted as he evaded a few shots. “You’re gonna have to do better than that!”

_"WARNING, INCOMING MISSILE. WARNING, INCOMING MISSILE.”_

"Flares!"

Zelda's Broadsword rocked as the fuel rod cannons exploded right above him.

“Close, but not close enough!” Zelda gloated.

 _“Zelda! Where the fuck are you?”_ Odessa suddenly demanded to know.

“What the fuck do you mean, ‘where the fuck -'" Zelda started to snap, but then looked around and realize he and Odessa were no longer together. Somehow, there had been a slight miscommunication between each other, and in the course of their evasive maneuvers, they had ended up going in separate directions. “Ah, fuck.”

Odessa must have realized the same thing because he immediately yelled, _“Zelda, head's up, the Seraphs have forced us to split up, **I NO LONGER HAVE YOUR BACK!** You got two Seraphs about ready to push your shit in! Zelda, you copy!?"_

"Solid copy," Zelda grunted out as he did his best to dodge the fire coming his way. Somehow, knowing he was alone suddenly made this fight actually seem serious. "Sorry. A little busy. Where’s that third Seraph?"

_"He's on **my** six and- ah, shit, I just picked up a pair of Banshees. Hang on, give me a min, I just might be able to get past and give you some support!"_

"Negative, you deal with those fuckers and keep them off my back. I can handle myself!"

_“You sure?”_

“Not gonna dignify that with a response!” Zelda snapped before switching off his radio. 

"Shit!" he snapped as a plasma bolt slammed against his fighter's rear. An alarm started sounding but Zelda quickly silenced it. "Okay you pukes, time to fucking dance."

He threw himself into a canopy roll to a right and then immediately climbed before abruptly jumping into a lag roll and then diving into an outside loop, trying to shake the Seraphs off his tail. Unfortunately, it didn’t take; glancing at his rear scopes, Zelda could see both Seraphs barreling after him, undeterred.

The problem was the distance; at a little under fifteen hundred meters away, the Seraphs were a bit too far away to really be fooled by any of Zelda’s combat maneuvers. Yet conversely, the Seraphs were too _close_ for Zelda to simply punch in his afterburners and try to outrun them as they would simply lock onto the heat from his engine exhaust and send a dozen fuel rod cannons his way. In fact, probably the only reason why they hadn’t done that already was because at this range, the radiation from the fuel rod cannon explosions would play hell with their shields, leaving them vulnerable to attack from other UNSC forces.

Zelda tried to throw himself into an inverted cobra roll, but for his troubles, he almost flew straight into a bolt of plasma one of the Seraphs threw his way. He let out a growl of annoyance. He was beginning to wish he was back fighting in Tenedos’ rings. At least over there, there had been plenty of cover he could have used to break line of sight and gotten behind his pursuers.

"Come on, let's go, let's go!" Zelda urged as he tried to think of a way to lose these Seraphs.

Time was running out for him. With the amount of plasma the Seraphs were throwing at him - which they could do because unlike his rotary cannon, plasma cannons didn't run out of ammo - they would eventually hit him through sheer saturation. But every move he did, every maneuver he pulled, somehow the Seraphs were right there, matching it.

Zelda didn't want to admit it, but he was beginning to think he might need some help.

Of course, a quick glance at his radar showed there weren't any friendlies available. Hell, he didn’t even know who was still alive and who had been shot down in his squadron. The only friendly contact within range was the _Canberra_ , and she was still fighting off the Covenant warships...

A thought suddenly occurred to Zelda and he glanced in the _Canberra's_ direction, or more specifically, the crossfire that was taking place between her and a nearby Covenant destroyer, and Zelda suddenly realized how he could lose the Seraphs.

"Oh, this is a bad idea, even for me," Zelda groaned but unfortunately, it was the only option he could think of. "Shit! Alright, fine! You cunts want to play follow the leader? Let's see how far you're willing to take it!"

Throwing himself into an inside loop followed by a very tight rudder roll, Zelda took off in the direction of the _Canberra_ , with the two Seraphs following close behind.

"Okay, okay, I can do this," Zelda tried to encourage himself as he barreled towards the fighting and an alert flashed across his screen, warning him he was about to enter a red zone where the chances of a friendly fire incident were greatly magnified. He glanced behind him. The Seraphs were still following him, undeterred.

"Oh, this is soooooo not going to end well," Zelda groaned. "Oh shiiitttttt!!!!!"

He entered the red zone.

At once all sorts of alarms began going off!

_"WARNING, INCOMING MISSILES."_

_"...INCOMING PROJECTILE."_

_"WARNING, COLLISION..."_

_"...INCOMING..."_

_"...SAMS DETECTED."_

_"PULL UP... PULL UP..."_

"Shut up shut up shutup!" Zelda snapped as he concentrated on trying to not get hit.

Anti-ship missiles the size of school buses rushed passed him on their way towards their target. Violent blue plasma bolts capable of engulfing his entire fighter in one go whipped by, headed in the opposite direction. 50mm shell fire exploded near him, pelting his fighter with shrapnel, and a pencil-thin beam of pure energy lanced by so close to him, Zelda swore he could feel the heat even buried under several layers of Titanium and plastic, as well as wrapped in his pressurized vacuum suit. Zelda ducked, bobbed, and weaved as the barrage continued, unabated, as both ships did their best to kill each other, their gunners completely unconcerned or unaware of the three small fighters foolish enough to wander into their crossfire. And it was still three fighters: glancing at his rear scopes, Zelda could see both Seraphs were still after him, struggling slightly to avoid getting hit in their less maneuverable fighters, but still persistent in pursuing him.

Zelda wasn't entirely sure why. From the way they stuck to him, it was almost as if he had somehow done something that had personally offended them, but he couldn't think of what that something might have been. Honor systems: he would never understand them.

At any case, it was clear this wasn't working. Zelda needed to mix things up.

"Time to up the ante I guess," Zelda muttered. With a reluctant sigh, he banked hard to the left and headed straight for the front of the _Canberra_. As was tradition for most naval ships, most of the _Canberra's_ heaviest weapons were mounted towards the front of the ship, including her two MACs. Here, the firing was even more intense as the _Canberra_ was splitting her fire between two ships, a Covenant light cruiser and another corvette.

"Here goes nothing..."

Immediately Zelda was forced to jerk to the side as an Archer missile abruptly exploded nearby, having been destroyed by Covenant pulse lasers before it could even get halfway to its destination. Rolling to the right, Zelda was nearly struck by a plasma torpedo which, while it wasn't capable of locking on to his fighter because of his relatively low magnetic signature, was more than enough to completely incinerate him.

The plasma torpedo streaked passed him and then abruptly executing a full ninety degree towards him. Before he could even begin to question how, he noticed a magnetic decoy the size of a small box truck that had been launched by the _Canberra_ floating past him from behind and he slammed on his forward thrusters, bringing himself to a stop as the plasma torpedo passed right in front of him and zeroed in on the decoy.

A pair of needlers from who-the-fuck-knew-where, as most Covenant warships didn't carry needlers, shot over his shoulder and Zelda reflexively threw himself into a dive only to fly right through the vapor trail left behind by a volley of Archer missiles, temporarily blinding him. He yanked back on his stick and climbed out of the exhaust, only to blink as there was a sudden flash of light in front of him. It took him a few moments to realize that had been the light reflecting off a MAC round and it suddenly occurred to him he had almost stumbled into the path of a pair of MAC rounds the _Canberra_ had just fired.

Glancing downrange, Zelda noticed the light cruiser the _Canberra_ had been fighting against was now a flaming wreck and was slowly falling apart even as she was struck amidship by another volley of missiles. Still, even in her death throes, the cruiser fired off a quad of plasma torpedoes, one of which was able to score a direct hit on the _Canberra's_ hull.

The torpedo exploded and he glanced at the _Canberra_ to see a piece of shrapnel about the size of a bumper car get hurtled in his direction traveling at - from what it appeared to Zelda - damn near the speed of light. He quickly spun his fighter but fortunately his judgement had been a bit off and the shrapnel didn't even come near him.

**_FWOOZ FWOOZ!_ **

"OH COME ON!" Zelda yelled, trying to do his best to avoid the plasma the Seraphs sent after him. "Are you fucking kidding me!? Why the fuck are you two morons still after me!? You guys are crazier than I am!"

He glanced through his rear scopes, trying to figure out if there was another way to lose his pursuers when -

One of the Seraph's shields lit up as he was struck by AA fire from the _Canberra!_ The Seraph quickly banked to the side but abruptly there was a flash of light as a Covenant excavator beam speared the Seraph right in the cockpit. The Seraph survived, intact, but it was clear no one was steering the fighter anymore as it continued flying straight, until it blundered right into a plasma torpedo and exploded.

"HAHA! YES! TAKE THAT YOU STUPID SPLIT-LIP BASTARD!" Zelda cheered. He noticed the other Seraph visibly wavering, before he hastily turned tail and started heading for the edge of the crossfire zone.

"OH NO YOU DON'T!" Zelda roared. "YOU DON'T DRAG MY ASS OUT HERE AND THEN GET TO LEAVE!"

The Seraph ignored him as he headed for the safety of open space at max speed. In a blind fury, Zelda took off after him. Without bothering to try and obtain a lock, Zelda just began unloading all his weapons on the Seraph. All sorts of Medusa missiles and 35mm shell fire, which looked absolutely pathetic when compared to the arsenal the _Canberra_ was firing, were launched in the direction of the Seraph. More than half of them missed, while at least another quarter was destroyed by the crossfire. The remainder of his rounds though struck home and Zelda could see the Seraph's shields light up.

"How do you like that!?" Zelda snarled, nailing the Seraph once more and watching as his shields disappeared. He pulled the trigger once more, only for his screen to flash red. He wasn't given any time to diagnose the problem as before him, the Seraph was unexpectedly struck by a series of pulse laser and the fighter dissolved into a ball of fire.

"Hey, that was my kill!" Zelda weakly protested, mostly out of habit, as he was distracted by looking for a way out. With both Seraphs gone, he no longer had a reason to hang around in the red zone, but getting out wasn't as easy as getting in. With the destruction of the Covenant light cruiser, Zelda would have thought the fire would have slackened but if anything, it actually intensified as the _Canberra_ was free to focus fire on the remaining warships.

"Oh boy, you really fucked up this time, Zelda," Zelda told himself as he launched his fighter towards what appeared to be open space, only to have to divert when a MAC round passed right through. "I fucking told you this was a bad idea!!!"

Doing a tight loop, Zelda started rocketing upwards, dodging lasers and shells. The fire seemed to intensify as he sped away and it started to feel like every single gunner on both ships was aiming directly at him, trying to prevent him from leaving.

"Come on! You can do it!" Zelda urged his fighter. "Almost... there...!"

Something exploded directly in front of him, so closely, Zelda had no time to react. All he could do was close his eyes as he barreled straight for the blast.

His fighter let out a rumble as flew through the explosion, shaking his fighter so badly he was sure the Broadsword was about to shake itself apart. A loud tock noise filled the air as he was pelted with debris and shrapnel and alarms began screaming in his ears. All Zelda could do was continue to accelerate and pray he would make it...

And then, suddenly, it was all over.

Zelda cautiously opened an eye. When he noticed he was still sitting in his cockpit, and not floating alone in space, he slowly opened both eyes. His fighter was still intact, accelerating through open space, with the red zone and all the crossfire fading away behind him. Somehow, and against all odds, Zelda had not only survived, but survived without suffering from any critical damage.

"I made it," Zelda said slowly in wonder. Then it hit him. "I MADE IT! JUST LIKE I THOUGHT I WOULD! HA! YOU STUPID MOTHERFUCKERS! TAKE THAT YOU S.O.B.S! HOW DO YOU LIKE ME NOW!?"

_PING._

Zelda nearly shit his pants when his proximity alarm went off. He grabbed his stick and started searching for the enemy contact, only to let out an immense sigh of relief as he realized it was only Odessa.

 _"Dude, did you just fucking come out of a red zone!?!?!"_ Odessa demanded to know without preamble.

Under normal circumstances, Zelda would have tried to play it off like it had been nothing, but honestly his hands were still shaking from the sheer amount of flying he had to do to avoid getting killed, so all he said was, "Yes. Zero out of ten, would not recommend."

 _"I feel like that should go without saying. But then again, I remember I'm talking to you,"_ Odessa casually commented. _"Come on, Bellum's trying to get the squadron back in order."_

Zelda nodded and followed Odessa to where the rest of the squadron had assembled. JV and 303 were already there, though Zelda noticed about half the squadron wasn’t.

 _"Zelda, you okay?"_ Bellum immediately demanded to know as soon as she laid eyes on him.

"I'm good Leader," Zelda simply said, still shaking slightly from his ordeal.

_"Yeah? Your bird looks like shit. What's your ammo and fuel status?"_

Zelda glanced at his HUD and began cycling through his weapons. “I'm essentially at bingo fuel and Winchester on everything," he read out loud, blinking in surprise. He hadn't been paying attention, but that did explain why he hadn't been able to deliver the finishing blow on the last Seraph; he hadn't had anything left to hit him with.

_"How are you already out on everything?"_

Zelda thought back to all the intensive maneuvering he had to do to avoid getting hit in the red zone. "You probably don't want to know."

 _"...knowing you, that’s more than likely true. Omega-6, only place we have left to land is the_ Trenchard, _who's holding position among the remains of the fleet. She's probably under attack, but I can't spare anyone to escort you in; you think you can get there by yourself?”_

"Affirmative, Major."

_"Okay then. Omega-6, RTB to refuel and rearm. Everyone else, on me!"_

"Copy. Omega-6, returning to base."

Zelda gratefully turned his fighter around and headed away from the fighting and back towards Actium where the _Trenchard_ was. Quickly getting cleared by the control tower, Zelda coasted into the nearest available hangar and cautiously set his fighter down. Immediately his fighter was set upon by a veritable army of maintainers.

 _"Sir, what do you need?"_ the head chief asked as Zelda locked his landing gear in place and opened up his bomb bay doors.

"I need everything!" Zelda warned. "Fuel and ammo! Lots of ammo!"

_"We're on it, sir! Alright guys, shake a leg! Let's get this fighter loaded up and back into the fight!"_

Zelda turned away as the airmen began hooking up fuel lines to his fighter and started hauling in all sorts of ordnance into the hangar. Outside, he could hear the ship rocking as it was struck by fire from the Covenant, and he impatiently drummed his fingers against his arm rest. He needed to be out there, not stuck in here.

Unfortunately, there wasn’t anything he could do to speed the process up, so Zelda did his best to remain patient as he watched the ground crew work as fast as they could to refill his Broadsword's magazines and fuel reserves. He was about to break into his supplies and go digging for some sort of energy drink, or at least a snack, when the entire ship abruptly shuddered..

“The fuck was that…?” Zelda exclaimed, looking outside in alarm. 

Without warning, all sorts of alarms began going off inside the hangar, filling the room with red flashing lights as the ship shook once more, which was followed by the thrum as the _Trenchard_ abruptly ignited her main thrusters.

“Whoa, what the hell is this?” Zelda yelled, glancing out his cockpit window only to see all the ground crew going crazy, running around strapping things down and finding cover. “Hey! What the fuck is going on?”

As if someone heard him, Zelda suddenly heard someone yelling over the ship's internal PA, _"Attention all personnel, we have massive incoming! All Security Force squads, move to alert status red con zero! Crew and ops, secure all floors and standby to be engaged!"_

"God dammit!" Zelda snapped, frustrated at the lack of information. "Control Tower, Omega-6, what the hell is going on out there!?"

 _"Three_ CCS _-class battlecruisers just jumped into this sector!"_ the ATC frantically reported and Zelda felt his heart freeze with fear. _"They just plowed right through the frigates covering us, and are headed in our direction! Omega-6, you got to get out of here!"_

Zelda glanced at his HUD. He was about seventy percent loaded, but the ground crew had yet to even begin refueling him. "I still need fuel! Ground crew, give me fuel, god dammit, NOW!"

He wasn't sure if anyone heard him at first, but then he notice one of the maintainers launch herself towards a lever on the wall and pull it. Immediately his fuel reserves began to climb.

"Comeoncomeoncomeon," Zelda urged, mentally willing his tanks to fill faster, but the numbers seemed to be moving so slowly. "HURRY UP!"

Then he heard the one announcement he'd been dreading go over the PA: _"All personnel, we have Bandits! Inbound boarding craft detected, ETA, THIRTY SECONDS!"_

"SHIT!"

Zelda's bird was only thirty percent fueled up, but it was going to have to do. He was in an extremely vulnerable state just sitting there and he refused to be killed while he was still on the ground, sitting there like a crippled bird just waiting to be put out of his misery.

"Unhook me! Ground crew, unhook me!" he demanded, gesturing at the fuel line still sticking out of his Broadsword but no one was paying any attention. "Someone unhook me!"

**_BOOM._ **

The _Trenchard_ shook once more as something struck it, and even more alarms began blaring.

_"Contact! Covenant incursions detected on floors one, four, and ten! All Security Forces, respond!"_

"SHIT!" Zelda yelled. The _Trenchard_ was not a naval ship, and was never designed to be able to fight off a boarding party. "I NEED SOMEBODY TO UNHOOK ME RIGHT NOW!"

He reached for his crash harness, fully prepared to leave his fighter and unhook it himself, when the interior door to the hangar abruptly blew open!

_"BOARDING PARTIES DETECTED IN HANGARS ONE, TWO, AND SIX!"_

An entire platoon of Covenant soldiers came charging into the hangar. Wearing jetpacks, they were all completely undeterred by the lack of air and gravity, and instead instantly began moving to cover. There had been two Security Forces officers stationed by the door and they immediately opened up, blowing away the first couple of Grunts that had entered the room, but then a couple of Elites entered and quickly returned fire. The SF officers were unable to disable the Elites’ personal shields in time before they were gunned down, their bodies left floating where they had died.

With the most immediate threat dealt with, the Covenant quickly turned their guns on all the other personnel nearby. Air Force aircraft maintainers were never expected to see direct combat against Covenant infantry and as such, they had neither the training nor the weapons to deal with this threat. Airmen were quickly blown away as they scrambled to find cover, only in an open hangar like this, there was little to none to be found.

“Ah, fuck!" Zelda yelled, horrified, as he watched the slaughter.

Movement caught his attention and he turned to see one fuel specialist launch herself towards the bodies of the SF officers, trying to reach their assault rifles floating harmlessly by them, only to get snagged out of the air by the Elite and thrown hard against the deck. Pining her to the ground with his foot, the Elite leveled his plasma rifle. "NO!!!"

Releasing his magnetic clamps, Zelda fired his maneuvering thrusters, turning his Broadsword around. The noise immediately attracted the attention of all the Covenant present, and they all looked up in time to see Zelda's gun port to his main cannon open up. "Die you ugly mother - !!!"

The Elite essentially exploded as Zelda’s initial round hit him square in the chest. The rest of the Covenant party quickly met the same fate, and as soon as the last alien was dead, Zelda hurriedly looked past all the floating globules of blood and body parts, trying to find the airman he'd been trying to save, only to see he had been too late and the airman had been one of the many casualties of the Covenant's rampage. "Fuck! Fuck this!"

Zelda experimentally lifted off and started heading for the door with his maneuvering thrusters, only to abruptly get stopped short by the fuel lines. He craned his neck, wondering if there was some way he could just break it free, but it was pretty solidly built, and probably only his main thrusters had that kind of torque. But if he fired off his main thrusters in here, the exhaust from his engine would possibly incinerate everyone not inside a shield or behind some blast doors. And there were still a lot of ground crew floating around.

"SOMEBODY, either unhook me or get the fuck out of the hangar!" Zelda roared in frustration.

_"Security! Covenant forces inside the control tower!"_

Zelda's head snapped up and he looked over his shoulder in the direction of the control tower. Overlooking the hangar were a series of blast windows that the ATCs could look through and visually monitor all aircraft traffic, if need be. Normally Zelda could look up and see the ATCs sitting at their stations but at the moment, all he saw were Covenant soldiers rushing into the room and gunning down the airmen before they could even get out of their seats.

"Oh, that's not good!" Zelda yelped as the Covenant looked outside the windows and began gesturing wildly at his Broadsword just sitting there.

_whomp whomp whomp._

Zelda jerked in his seat as the Covenant began spraying his fighter down with plasma, though fortunately their handheld weapons weren't strong enough to damage his plane. Still, there was always a risk they could hit something critical plus, it wouldn’t be long before they brought forth something heavier. He needed to leave, **_right fucking now._**

He reached for the power lever to his main thrusters, but then hesitated. At the same time, he couldn’t just leave all these people to die here. At the moment, he was quite easily the only thing preventing the Covenant from coming in and slaughtering them all. There had to be some way for them to get off the ship. But all the escape pods were outside of the hangar and with Covenant presence just outside, there was no way for them to escape. Everyone in the hangar was already dead, they just didn’t know it yet. The only question now was, would he be joining them in death?

“Fuck, fuck!”

He could see Covenant soldiers amassing just outside the hangar doors, as well as a ton of fuel rod cannons and plasma launchers, and Zelda realized he was simply, _out of time_. He had to make a decision: did he stay and die with everyone else? Or did he leave, and live to fight another day?

In the end, it wasn’t really a choice.

“Sorry guys,” Zelda whispered, powering up his main thrusters as the Covenant soldiers began pouring into the room once more. “I can’t help any longer.”

He ignited his thrusters.

There was an audible _snap_ as the fuel lines finally broke, and Zelda’s Broadsword rocketed out of the hangar. A couple of fuel rod shots followed him as some of the Covenant soldiers tried one last time to stop him, but they all missed. As he rapidly departed from the ship, he could see the Covenant gunning down the last of the airmen left inside the hangar and he closed his eyes until he was too far away to see the hangar anymore, and all he could see was the _Trenchard_ , with her hull almost completely covered in purple-colored boarding craft and drop pods.

 _“Attention all UNSC call signs,”_ someone abruptly said over Zelda’s radio, even as he continued to speed away. _“This is Colonel Boyer, commander of the UNSC_ Trenchard. _Be advised, the_ Trenchard _has been completely overrun. I’ve got… Covenant infantry knocking on the door to my control room right now. They’ll be through in a matter of minutes now, and… my crew won’t be able to hold them off. I can’t let them capture this ship, so in exactly fifteen seconds… we will be self-detonating a Havoc nuke inside our engine room. Hopefully the blast will… take out quite a few Covenant aircraft. To any UNSC forces still out there: all craft, stand clear of_ Trenchard _airspace. I say again: all craft, stand clear of – “_

There was a brilliant white flash behind him and Zelda looked over his shoulder in time to see a massive fireball consuming the _Trenchard_. A strange noise began sounding over the radio, and it took him a few moments to realize what it was: the garbled sound of people screaming.

“Fuck…” Zelda whispered, completely horrified by the sound, yet, he couldn’t bear to turn the radio off. It didn’t matter though: the screaming only lasted for a few more seconds before the radio waves completely cut off. “Fuck! FUCK! **FUCK FUCK FUCK!!!”**

Zelda slammed his fist against his control panel as anger and grief overwhelmed him. He could feel blood beginning to drip down his hand on as the metal housing busted his knuckles open, but Zelda ignored the pain.

His radar let out a _ping_ as it detected movement, and Zelda shot a glance at his rear scopes. Behind him, he could see all three Covenant battlecruisers moving towards the planet, brushing past whatever scant resistance JTF Byzas had left to offer. They callously flew passed the burning remains of the _Trenchard_ like it wasn’t even there, coming to halt in orbit nearly ten thousand kilometers above sea level. Even as Zelda watched, the ships began deploying in some sort of triangle formation with the dorsal side of their hulls pointed straight down at Actium, leaving a massive gap in the center of their formation, big enough for a fleet to pass through. What it was for was revealed moments later.

_“Slipspace rupture, detected.”_

A slipspace portal opened up and emerging from it came a massive Covenant capital ship. Zelda recognized the ship as the same one that had destroyed the UNSC _Pégoud_ , back inside Tenedos’ rings. 

The _ORS_ -class heavy cruiser continued forward, coming to a halt in the dead space between the three battlecruisers. As it did, Zelda noticed all sorts of hangar bay doors opening as hundreds - if not thousands - of drop pods, troop carriers, and dropships began pouring out from the bowels of the ship. They all turned and headed for the surface of Actium.

“Ah, fuck,” Zelda whispered as he headed to where the remains of the UNSC forces were assembling.

“That’s not good.”

**XXXXX**

**Heliopolis Station**

**Spaatz**

Spaatz grimly stared at his tactical display, the image of the four Covenant cruisers positioned in high orbit around Actium burnt into his retinas. So. The Covenant had finally made their move. Now he could finally make his.

He glanced at the hologram of D'Amboise's face floating nearby and gave a single nod.

It was time for Task Force Whiskey to join the fight.

* * *

General Notes:

**Pathfinder** : in this story, I’m treating Pathfinders more like the British Army unit in the sense they’re a long range reconnaissance unit (US military would call them Force Reconnaissance if Marines, or Long-Range Reconnaissance Patrols [LRRP]/Long-Range Surveillance [LRS] teams if Army) as opposed to an American Pathfinder unit, mostly because I’m not actually sure I get what post-WW2 pathfinder units in the US Army do (or rather did; last pathfinder unit was deactivated in 2017,) if I’m being honest.

They’re only briefly mentioned in this chapter, but I’m thinking I might use them again further down the line, which is why I’m explaining what they are here (so I can remember.)

 **Osprey** : this is not a canon aircraft. In short, they're intended to be a heavy lift cargo/transport tiltrotor aircraft used by both the UNSC Air Force and the Army. They’re essentially the atmospheric version of Pelicans and used in a similar way to the CH-47 “Chinook" and CH-53 “Sea Stallion” helicopters are in the modern-day US military. Advantages of the Osprey over the Pelican would be that they're cheaper and can be used in conjunction with existing UH-144 “Falcons.”

Official designation for them would be CH-222 “Osprey II" (named as tribute to the world's first production tiltrotor, the V-22 “Osprey.”) In terms of appearance, there's actually a pretty cool concept art I randomly found on Pinterest (no idea who the original artist is, unfortunately,) called the “AC-15 VTOL concept" that I would want to base the Osprey’s appearance off of (minus the side mounted cannons,) but probably can’t because I don’t have permission.

 **Rotor-head** : this is not strictly a military term, but as the name implies, it’s a nickname for helicopter pilots, though helicopter crews are sometimes included. It’s usually intended as a derogatory term, but not always.

 **CAB** : in this context, “CAB” stands for “ **C** ombat **A** viation **B** rigade” which is a U.S. Army aviation formation combining attack helicopters, utility helicopters, heavy-lift cargo helicopters, and manned or unmanned reconnaissance aircraft into one combined arms unit. CABs are designed to provide air support to an entire military division, and as such, every division in the U.S. Army has at least one CAB attached. (At one point, one division – the 101st Airborne Division – had two CAB’s assigned to it due to its status as an air assault unit: the 101st and 159th CABs. However, due to budgeting reasons as well as restructures in the U.S. Army, the 159th was inactivated in 2015, and not replaced.)

 **MOUT** : **M** ilitary **O** perations in **U** rban **T** errain. This was the US military term for urban warfare according to Wikipedia, however the acronym has mostly been replaced by the term **UO** , or simply, **U** rban **O** perations.

 **Sparrowhawk** : this is a canon aircraft. AV-22 “Sparrowhawks” are VTOL attack aircraft that were first introduced in _Halo Wars_. For the purpose of this fiction, I’m treating them like the Halo equivalent to real world attack helicopters such as the AH-1 “Cobra” or the AH-64 “Apache.”

 **FiSTer** : in the U.S. Army and Marine Corps, a FiSTer is a forward artillery observer (i.e., the guy who calls in both artillery and mortar strikes, and occasionally air strikes if they're qualified.) The name is derived from the acronym “FiST,” which stands for “ **Fi** re **S** upport **T** eam,” which is the team attached to a battalion headquarters where forward observers are usually assigned to.

 **SkyHawk** : this is a canon aircraft. AV-19 “SkyHawks" are supersonic jump jet strike fighters that first appeared in the official Halo novel _Halo: The Fall of Reach_ (it was the jet that Colonel Ackerson used in his attempt to kill Master Chief and Cortana during the test of AI integration with the Mark V MJOLNIR.) For the purpose of this story, I’m treating the SkyHawk as a sort combination of the real-world AV-8 “Harrier” and A-10 “Warthog” (as in, it has the jump jet capability of the Harrier, coupled with the firepower of the Warthog.)

 **M432 “Armadillo" IFV** : this is not a canon vehicle. In my headcanon, the Armadillo is similar in appearance to the Scorpion MBT in that is has the same four-bogey tread configuration as all UNSC tanks do. Its armed with a M8545 40mm autocannon (not a canon weapon,) an M247 coaxial machine gun, a M247 GPMG commander’s machine gun, a dual-barrel Argent V missile launcher on the side of the turret, smoke dispensers, crewed by three men, and is capable of carrying a seven man infantry squad. The name is derived from the real-world Swedish designed “Armadillo” armored vehicle that was never adopted by any army, though that vehicle is an APC, not an IFV like the UNSC one is intended to be.

 **Attack Transports** : this is not a canon type of ship. Essentially, attack transports are a type of ship designed specifically to transport large amounts of troops across long distances. The difference between a regular troop transport and an attack transport, is that attack transports carry their own landing craft (in this case, Pelicans,) making them far more versatile ships as they’re not limited to unloading troops by landing directly onto the surface of a planet, or via specifically designed space docks.

In real life, troop and attack transports were under the control of the Navy (though attack transports no longer exist, having partially been replaced by amphibious assault ships,) but in my headcanon, troop and attack transports belong to the UNSCAF, as they’re responsible for long distance heavy cargo transport (it’s also why they have fleet carriers.)

 **Mark 210 General Purpose Bomb** : this is not a canon bomb. In canon, a bomb known as the Mark 208 _does_ exist, however, as it is in real life, I figured there had to be more, with the difference being their explosive weight. As the Mark 208 is canon, I decided to treat that bomb as your standard Mk. 82 500 pound bomb (250 kilograms in-universe,) while the Mark 210 would be similar to the Mk 84 2000 pounder (1000 kilograms in-universe.) Other bombs would include the Mark 207 (lightest at 120 kilograms,) and the Mark 209 (medium sized at 500 kilograms.)


	10. Task Force Whiskey

**Heliopolis Station, High Orbit, Actium  
May 6, 2545  
1057**

**Spaatz**

The boxy forms of the over three dozen ships that made up Task Force Whiskey soaring through the void made for one impressive sight, however Spaatz was far too busy to be able to enjoy it.

"Kanin: all battle groups, report in," Spaatz barked over the sound of his staff going about their duties.

"Yes, sir. Command to all call signs: all battle groups, report in."

_"This is Task Force Gold, standing by."_

_"Task Force Blue, standing by."_

_"Task Force Red, standing by."_

_"Task Force Gray: we're green across the board!"_

All across Spaatz's tactical display, green lights began to light up, indicating the forces of TF Whiskey were ready for battle. Spaatz could sense Kanin turning in his direction.

"Sir? All battle groups are primed and ready."

"Understood. Time to contact?"

"Five minutes, sir.”

"Any movement from the Covenant?"

"No, sir. But I doubt they don't see us coming."

"Of course," Spaatz muttered under his breath. "Task force this size, the only way the Covenant would miss our approach was if they were blind, deaf, and dumb."

Kanin didn't respond even though Spaatz knew he would have heard him, and Spaatz resisted the urge to sigh, doing his best to maintain the image of a calm and collected commander who had total control of the entire situation. Unfortunately, that couldn't be further from the truth.

Since the beginning of the battle, Task Force Whiskey had been steadily growing in size with the influx of reinforcements to the system. At this point, TF Whiskey consisted of two _Epoch_ -class heavy carriers, one _Valiant_ -class super-heavy cruiser, **five** _Vindication_ -class battleships, dozens of support corvettes, frigates, and destroyers, two Air Force _Mukerjee_ -class aircraft carriers, hundreds of gunships and fighters, as well as several dozen orbital platforms and blue-water naval assets from the Actium Navy. It was one of the largest and most powerful fleets Spaatz had ever commanded in his entire military career. He had, at his fingertips, enough firepower to take a page out of the Covenant's book and systematically extinguish all life on Actium with a single volley if he had been so inclined.

However, as terrifying as that statement may have sounded, Spaatz had reason to believe that it wasn't going to be enough.

"Sir, the Covenant are beginning to react to our approach."

Spaatz nodded as, on his screen, a wave of red dots broke away from the main Covenant formation and began speeding towards his forces. Zooming in, Spaatz could see the wave was mostly comprised of the one-man fighters and gunboats, with the occasional light cruiser mixed in for support, all of which consisted of the Covenant's outer layer of defenses.

"All battle groups, maintain course," Spaatz ordered.

The problem was - and it was a problem that had continually plagued the UNSC since the start of this war - was that Covenant warships simply outclassed their UNSC counterparts in every single way. Covenant ships were stronger and more heavily armored than any UNSC ship in service. The only chance the UNSC ever had for winning was by achieving local superiority in numbers, as well as utilizing better tactics. With TF Whiskey, Spaatz had the numbers, but the tactics may be harder to come by.

Spaatz's strategic objective was fairly straightforward: in order to cripple the Covenant invasion fleet, he estimated he needed to disable, if not outright destroy, at least half the Covenant's capital ships. He had chosen this exact moment to launch his attack because with the Covenant's battlecruisers and _ORS_ heavy cruiser holding station over their landing site, depositing ground troops onto the surface of Actium at a frantic pace via a gravity lift, they were at their most vulnerable. Unfortunately, from the way the Covenant fleet had been deployed, it was clear the commander of the Covenant invasion fleet also realized that.

From the moment those capital ships had taken to the field, every other Covenant ship already in the system had immediately broken contact and fallen back to form a defensive "bubble" around the cruisers. There were three primary defensives layers, with the battlecruisers themselves occupying the innermost layer, all the Covenant destroyers occupying the middle layer, and finally all the corvettes occupying the outermost layer, with every single fighter, gunboat, and most of their light cruisers establishing a fighter screen.

In short, in order for Spaatz to even get within firing range of the Covenant capital ships, he would need to fight his way through every single Covenant ship already in the system.

It was a daunting task, one that seemed almost impossible. Still, Spaatz had to try. The fate of billions depended on it.

Fortunately, Spaatz had a plan

"Three minutes until the lead units reach maximum effective range of their weapons, sir," Kanin reported.

Spaatz nodded. "Task Force Gold, standby to engage," he commanded and he could hear Kanin repeating the order over the radio.

On screen, Spaatz watched as the fighters of TF Gold began to pour out of their carriers like a swarm of angry bees whose hive had just been kicked. Task Force Gold, consisting of two Air Force _Mukerjee_ -class aircraft carriers (UNSCs _Iqbal_ and _Löwenhardt_ ,) and reinforced by a host of Navy frigates and corvettes, constituted the lightest of Spaatz's battle groups in terms of raw firepower and as such, was currently serving as the UNSC's vanguard and main skirmishing line. Their mission objective was simple: disrupt the Covenant battle formation so heavier units could exploit the chaos.

"One minute until contact, sir," Kanin announced.

Waving his hand in acknowledgement, Spaatz reached out and activated his radio.

"Admiral Spaatz to General Carter," he said.

_"Go for Carter,"_ came the immediate response.

"General Carter: commence Operation: MONSOON RAIN."

_"Understood, sir. Task Force Gold Actual to all Task Force Gold call signs: commence the attack!"_

Through his display, Spaatz watched as the hundreds of fighters assigned to TF Gold broke away from the rest of the task force, followed closely by their assigned naval support ships, which in turn were followed by the Air Force aircraft carriers. The massive group started to head straight towards the Covenant at flank speed, with their fighters quickly pulling ahead of their capital ships.

The two masses of fighters rushed at each other, quickly closing the distance and getting closer to firing range by the second. But whereas the Covenant were beginning to visibly slow down to attack speed, the UNSC fighters were, if anything, speeding up.

Spaatz leaned in closer to his screen. At the speeds those fighters were traveling, obtaining a firing solution on the Covenant even with missiles would prove to be extremely difficult, which made Spaatz wonder how TF Gold planned to work around that. The problem was, while it was Spaatz's job to set the strategic objectives for TF Gold, the "what" of the battle, it was up to the individual commanders to determine the tactics necessary to achieve those objectives, or in other words, the "how" of the battle. Because of that, Spaatz had no idea what the commander of TF Gold was planning.

"Thirty seconds to contact."

Abruptly the Covenant fighters all open fired! A virtual wave of plasma headed straight for the UNSC fighters!

As expected, the fighters waited until the last possible second to start deploying countermeasures but strangely enough, they failed to break formation to begin evasive maneuvers, and Spaatz couldn't help but wince as a number of dots suddenly blinked out of existence from his screen. What were they doing?

“How soon before the Covenant are in range of those fighters?” Spaatz asked, glancing at Kanin.

"Covenant is in range now, sir," Kanin reported and Spaatz automatically braced himself, but instead of firing, the UNSC fighters just kept flying straight in.

"Are they... trying to close in to dogfighting range?" Spaatz asked out loud and out of the corner of his eye, he could see Kanin shaking his head.

"I have no idea, sir. But the Covenant certainly seem to think so," Kanin pointed out and indeed, even as they continued to fire, the Covenant were hastily pairing off in a standard dogfighting formation.

The UNSC fighters got to within knife fighting range of the Covenant, but then, in a move that took everyone by surprise, sped right passed them.

"What the..."

Spaatz watched as every single one of the UNSC fighters slip right past the Covenant. Some of the Covenant started to turn around to pursue, but with most of TF Gold's navy support warships closing in, most of the Covenant opted to try and take advantage of a lack of fighter screen and attack those ships directly. Spaatz could see explosions lighting up the hulls of his warships as the Covenant began their attack.

“Why is Task Force Gold throwing away their fighter support and letting the enemy attack their warships directly? That goes against just about every military manual in existence,” Spaatz started to note, but then paused as he noticed the warships weren’t even fighting back. Instead, like the fighters before them, they were doing their best to punch right through the Covenant lines, even if it was costing them dozens of casualties by allowing the Covenant free hits.

Confused, Spaatz zoomed his screen out to see where his ships were going, only to see them heading straight for the Covenant's second line of defense, the _SDV_ -class heavy corvettes and the location where most of the Covenant fighters had deployed from.

Covenant corvettes were some of the most versatile ships the Covenant had in their arsenal, being equipped for both anti-ship warfare and anti-fighter warfare. What they were not equipped to do was engage both at the same time, which is why they often deployed with fighter support of their own. With UNSC forces having completely blown past their fighter screen, and confronted with both fighters and warships advancing on their position, the corvettes hesitated, unable to decide who to engage first.

For that mistake, the Covenant paid dearly. TF Gold's warships promptly opened fire at maximum range, unloading several volleys of MAC rounds and Archer missiles at every single corvette present. At the same time, UNSC fighters finally broke off into separate flights and began launching attack runs on the damaged corvettes. The area lit up with plasma fire as the corvettes returned fire but for some of them, it was already too late: at least one corvette had already been destroyed while another two were clearly floundering.

In the meantime, realizing the danger, every Covenant fighter started turning around to return to their motherships. But before they could get far, explosions began lighting up the void as anti-aircraft fire began sweeping through their ranks. Advancing on their positions were TF Gold's two Air Force carriers and their gunship escorts. Without hesitating, they plunged among the ranks of the Covenant fighters, taking advantage of their confusion and causing the entire formation to immediately dissolve into chaos.

Watching the scene unfold in front of him, Spaatz couldn't help but be impressed by the boldness of Task Force Gold's commander. Placing aircraft carriers right in the thick of all the fighting was the opposite of what most commanders would have done. Heck, it was the complete opposite thing _he_ would have done as, despite their size, carriers simply lacked the armor or the firepower of most conventional flagships, such as battleships and cruisers. Because of that, most commanders - both Air Force and Navy ones - tried to keep their carriers far from the fighting, preferring to use them in their intended role as mere transports for other vessels.

But here, it was clear Task Force Gold's commander intended to use them more like mobile antiaircraft platforms, tying down the Covenant fighters while allowing the rest of their forces to attack the Covenant warships with impunity. It was a bold and risky strategy on the TF Gold commander's part as the Covenant fighters could easily overwhelm their carriers' defenses, but from the looks of it, it was working: the entire outer layer of the Covenant's defenses were being thrown into chaos as the Covenant scrambled to redeploy their forces in response to the situation at hand.

"Who's the commander in charge of Task Force Gold?" Spaatz asked Kanin without looking away from his screen. "This... General Carter?"

"Brigadier General Samantha Carter sir," Kanin informed him. "Commissioned twenty six years ago from the service academy, she was initially commissioned as a fighter pilot, though after obtaining a doctorate in astrophysics, she was transferred to **CLASSIFIED** program in 2532. The next ten years of her service record is classified, sir. Her record picks up again in 2542, when she was promoted to the rank of Colonel and transferred to the UNSC _Suzan Iqbal_ to serve as her commanding officer. Six months ago she was promoted to Brigadier General and appointed commanding officer of the Air Force's No. 19 Strategic Airlift Group."

Spaatz nodded his head. He briefly wondered what this "classified" program she had worked on for most of her military career was. In this day and age, it was probably something to do with the Covenant, though Spaatz had heard rumblings that the Air Force was taking the lead on research about another alien species, one that supposedly predated the Covenant. Spaatz never gave the rumors much heed though; he preferred to fight his alien invaders one at a time, thank you very much.

Whatever the case was, it was had clearly taught her how to think unconventionally, something Spaatz felt was desperately needed in this war.

"Send a copy of Carter's CSV to my records," Spaatz commanded. "The ones I have access too, of course. And make an annotation; I'm curious to see where General Carter's career takes her."

"Yes, sir."

With that done, Spaatz turned his attention back to the battle at hand. TF Gold was starting to take a fair amount of casualties as the Covenant started getting their fleet reorganized, however the damage was already done: the Covenant's defensive line had been considerably weakened. It was time to drive the nail in.

“Kanin, signal Task Force Blue,” Spaatz instructed. “Inform Admiral Ozzel he may begin Phase II with my compliments.”

"Yes, sir. Signaling now... Task Force Blue has received and is beginning their attack now, sir."

Outside, about half of the ships that remained of TF Whiskey began to break away from the main force. Consisting of one _Valiant_ -class super-heavy cruiser (UNSC _Vanguard_ ,) and two _Epoch_ -class navy heavy carriers (UNSCs _Liaoning_ and _São Paulo_ ,) as well as all their escorts, TF Blue was a blend of mobility and firepower, with the scales leaning more towards the firepower end. They were going to need that firepower as their goal was a bit more complicated: while TF Gold's job had simply been to disrupt the Covenant's formation, it was TF Blue's job to actually penetrate their defenses.

Spaatz watched as TF Blue's ships soared over Actium's crest and began speeding in the direction of the Covenant. Their formation was a bit more of a conventional layout, but still effective, with the _Vanguard_ in the lead and the carriers following up the rear.

Task Force Blue quickly approached the area where Task Force Gold and the Covenant's outer layer of defenses were entangled in a mortal struggle of life and death. Coming up from below to avoid collision with the ships from TF Gold, they headed straight for the Covenant's secondary line of defense. A single heavy corvette broke away from the fighting to try and intercept them, but before the ship could reach, the _Vanguard_ opened up.

The corvette's shields were instantly disabled as three MAC rounds slammed into it in rapid succession. The corvette retaliated by launching three plasma torpedoes and started to fire her plasma cannons, but before they could get off more than a single burst, a volley of Ares missiles fired by the _Vanguard_ slammed into the plasma cannons, destroying them instantly. Both ships began exchanging fire at a frantic pace, but the amount of weapons the _Vanguard_ carried, coupled with fire support from her escort frigates, meant it was an exchange the corvette had no chance of winning.

While this exchange was happening though, the three plasma torpedoes continued to head straight for _Vanguard_ at high speeds. Firing a series of missile directly in their path, the _Vanguard_ was able to destroy one of the torpedoes. The second was diverted by a number of decoys the _Vanguard_ fired, however the third and last torpedo continued along its path, undeterred. The projectile slammed into the super-heavy cruiser’s dorsal forward bow section, leaving scorch marks and melted armor in its wake, but failing to do much more than that.

Ignoring the damage, the _Vanguard_ and her escorts proceeded to reduce the assaulting corvette to nothing more than a pile of molten slag. Still, the delay, however brief, had been worth the loss of one entire warship as it had given the Covenant enough time to shift a number of their destroyers to a position where they could confront the advancing ships of TF Blue. Even as TF Blue quickly reformed and resumed their advance, they began getting raked with plasma fire as an entire squadron of two _CPV_ -class Covenant heavy destroyers and one _RPV_ -class light destroyer started shooting at them.

Plasma bolts and energy beams flashed across the void as the Covenant engaged with everything they had. TF Blue wasn't taking it lying down though, returning fire with missiles and heavy MAC rounds, as well as deploying all sorts of countermeasures and igniting their emergency thrusters to throw off the Covenant gunners' aim.

Most of the Covenant fire was directed at the cruiser, which bore the brunt of the attack without much issue. However, switching to a real-time view, Spaatz could see the plasma bolts steadily eating its way through her armor, stripping the ship of her defenses to the point where it wouldn't be that difficult for something heavier to punch right through. And sure enough, all sorts of warning signs began flashing across Spaatz's screen as the destroyers began launching a vast array of plasma torpedoes at Task Force Blue.

"How many plasma torpedoes did the Covenant just launch?" Spaatz demanded to know, his attention fixated on the action.

"I count five sir. Now six- seven! Seven torpedoes, in the air, sir!"

Spaatz sharply inhaled. Seven torpedoes was more than enough to reduce an entire battleship to slag. And with the way TF Blue had been launching countermeasures earlier like they’d been going out of style, Spaatz wasn't sure how much they had left.

He anxiously watched as the torpedoes speed towards the _Vanguard_. The ship quickly took action, beginning evasive maneuvers and firing missiles directly at the torpedoes to try and cause them to prematurely detonate. Explosions filled the vacuum as one by one, torpedoes began to detonate, but it wasn't enough; too many torpedoes were still getting through.

But as the remaining torpedoes closed the distance, the _Vanguard_ abruptly ceased fire. Before Spaatz could inquire as to what the hell Ozzel was doing, all of TF Blue's escort frigates suddenly surged forward, and Spaatz numbly watched as they placed themselves between the torpedoes and the cruiser. On his display, the symbols representing those ships began dropping like flies as the torpedoes easily tore through the much lighter ships, destroying quite a few of them, but leaving the cruiser relatively unscathed.

At that sight, Spaatz couldn't help but shake his head in dismay. Rear Admiral Ozzel had a reputation for being a rather aggressive and stubborn commander, always looking for a fight and never refusing to back down, no matter the odds. His bullheaded nature had allowed him to blunder his way to victory through a number of rather difficult battles in the past, which helped him climb the ranks, but it had also given him a reputation of being a rather ruthless and uncaring commander who cared more about obtaining personal glory than the men and women under his command. Seeing the almost casual way Ozzel had just thrown away his escorts to ensure his capital ships remained fully operational, Spaatz could tell Ozzel's reputation wasn't completely undeserved.

Still, Spaatz found he couldn’t entirely fault Ozzel. With a battle like this where so much was at stake and both sides being almost equal in strength, the need to hit the Covenant with enough speed and force to knock them off balance was paramount to victory. And that couldn't be accomplished if the UNSC's strongest ships were running at less than full strength, so some sacrifice was needed. Still, Spaatz couldn't help but wonder if there hadn't been some other way besides allowing so much loss of life.

At any case and at the very least, the _Vanguard_ was trying to take advantage of the sacrifice of her escorts. She aggressively advanced towards the destroyers, and it was clear the crew of the _Vanguard_ was out looking for blood. She open fired on one of the heavy destroyers, quickly stripping away the destroyer's shields with missiles, and then systematically began pounding the ship with MAC shells.

The destroyer's armor managed to absorb at least three hits before their reactor was abruptly breached by a lucky MAC shot. The destroyer disintegrated as her reactor went critical, sending shrapnel rippling out in every direction, and causing massive damage to another destroyer that had been holding formation just a bit more closely than what would have been considered wise. Like a shark that suddenly smelled blood, the _Vanguard_ abruptly zeroed in on the damaged destroyer, and started hammering it with shells.

The remaining Covenant destroyer weren't being idle while all this was going down though. While the _Vanguard_ was busy finishing off the wounded destroyer, the last destroyer of the squadron was maneuvering around to approach them from the sides or the rear where, due to its design, the MACs wouldn't be able to target her, at least not without turning the entire ship around. Preoccupied with her target and having sacrificed most of her escorts, there was nothing the _Vanguard_ could do to stop them.

As Spaatz watched, the sole Covenant light destroyer started approaching the _Vanguard_ from "above." Brushing off the fire that a nearby UNSC frigate was laying down as it desperately tried to prevent the destroyer from firing its weapons, Spaatz could see a massive amount of energy swirling at the destroyer's forward bow as she prepared to fire her energy projector at the space equivalent of point-blank range into the _Vanguard_. But before she could, the destroyer was abruptly struck by a couple of MAC rounds, knocking her off course.

Tracing the shells back to their source, Spaatz spotted TF Blue's assigned carriers taking to field. Unlike General Carter, Ozzel had opted to use his carriers in a more conventional way, keeping them behind his warships and only bring them forward to provide support, even though Navy carriers were far better equipped for ship-to-ship combat than Air Force ones as each ship was armed with a single MAC.

Fighters began pouring from the carriers, lending their support to the battle. Due to the amount of space the MACs and associated equipment took up, Navy carriers could only carry about half the amount of fighters their Air Force counterparts could despite being larger in size. Still, eighty some Longswords per carrier was nothing to scoff at, and Spaatz could see the Covenant destroyer squadron quickly buckling under the combined weight of all the UNSC ships. Though it was hard to tell in real time because of the distances involved, on his display, a noticeable hole was forming in the Covenant lines as a blue oasis in a sea of red dots began to bloom.

"Sir, it appears Task Force Blue has formally penetrated the Covenant defensive bubble. A direct attack route to the Covenant's capital ships is forming," Kanin reported. "Admiral Amarchih is requesting permission to have Task Force Red begin Phase III."

Spaatz started to nod his head, but then hesitated. There was something about this battle that had been bothering him since before Task Force Gold began their attack, but he couldn't quite put his finger on it. It was like... this entire battle was... almost... _too_ easy.

Of course, that was a patently ridiculous thought. Covenant resistance was fierce, as it always was as evident by the ever mounting casualties both TF Gold and Blue were taking. And it's not like the situation was stable. While his forces were holding on to their positions for now, there was no denying their hold was tenuous at best. If he didn't order Task Force Red to begin their attack soon, the scales could easily tip in the Covenant's favor, and they would miss their chance at achieving their objective. There was nothing _easy_ about this battle.

And yet, Spaatz couldn't help but think back to the old Navy adage: "if everything is going to plan, then an ambush is about to occur." That, coupled with this feeling that he had missed something, something very crucial to the success or failure of this battle, was causing Spaatz's sense of danger, honed by decades of military service, to trigger.

"Kanin, how many carriers and capital ships do Task Forces Gold and Blue have left?" Spaatz asked.

He could sense the confused look that appeared over Kanin's face, but he answered nevertheless.

"All of them, sir."

"Good. Create a new battle group, Task Force Green, and transfer control of the _Liaoning and_ the _Löwenhardt_ , as well as all their fighter wings and escorts to that group. Have Admiral Pike - Christopher that is, not Thomas - take command and order him to establish a rear guard at the edge of the fighting."

He glanced in Kanin's direction, only to see him with a rather bewildered look on his face.

"Sir," he slowly began, "with all due respect, removing several ships to establish an unnecessary rear guard in the middle of a battle is extremely inadvisable as it will considerably weaken Task Forces Gold and Blue's ability to maintain their positions in the event of a concerted Covenant counterattack. May I suggest we simply proceed with the attack?"

Normally, Spaatz tried to avoid being one of those commanders who demanded absolute obedience to the very letter of his every order. It had been his experience that sort of leadership almost always completely destroyed morale and highly discouraged individual initiative. In his opinion, if a commander wasn’t capable of explaining the rationale behind an order, then it probably wasn’t that good of an order to begin with.

However, under these circumstances, absolutely frustrated by his own inability to fully understand his own concerns, the last thing Spaatz wanted was someone questioning his orders.

“Kanin, just do it,” he tersely snapped, doing his best to keep his aggravation from appearing in his voice. He didn’t think he succeeded though because Kanin immediately went rigid.

“Sir. Yes, sir,” was all he said though, and immediately turned away to execute Spaatz’s commands.

Spaatz turned back to his screen, feeling just the tiniest bit guilty, but for the most part his mind was too preoccupied with the battle to give it much thought. He was missing something, something obvious, but as his ships began redeploying and Task Force Green was formed, he still couldn’t figure out what “it" was.

“Sir, Admiral Pike has taken command of Task Force Green and has established a rear guard. However, the Covenant are beginning to press their attack against both Task Forces Gold and Blue. General Carter and Admiral Ozzel report they will be able to hold out, but not indefinitely. If Task Force Red is to attack, respectfully, sir, they need to do it now,” Kanin reported out loud, before leaning in closer, close enough Spaatz could start to count the individual hairs that constituted the fur on Kanin's face. “Sir, with all due respect, if you’re not comfortable with giving the order, I can transfer control of the operation over to Admiral D’Amboise.”

Spaatz immediately shook his head. “No, this is my responsibility. Furthermore, Admiral D’Amboise is too busy with the defense of the rest of the planet. It’s why I’ve taken control of this battle in the first place.”

“Well, then, sir, if you think this is a mistake, we can still call off the attack.”

Spaatz had considered that, but unfortunately that wasn’t an option.

“No,” he finally said with a sigh. “This is probably our last opportunity to tip the balance of power in our direction. We need to attack, while we still have that chance. Give me a direct connection to Admiral Amarchih.”

“You’re online now, sir.”

“Command to Task Force Red.”

_“Go ahead, Command!”_ the voice of Admiral Amarchih sounded over the radio.

“Commence the attack!”

_“Yes, sir!”_ Amarchih immediately bellowed before clicking his radio off, and Spaatz turned to his screen, praying he hadn’t just made a mistake.

On screen, the remaining ships of TF Whiskey ignited their thrusters and headed for the fight. Out of all the battle groups, TF Red was by far the most powerful. As they had been intended to confront the Covenant’s most powerful ships in the system, Task Force Red appropriately consisted of **_five_** _Vindication_ -class battleships (UNSCs _Kilkis, Salamis, Lemnos, Fatih,_ and _Reşadiye,_ ) as well as all the assault carriers, light carriers, and Air Force attack transports in the system for support. It was Spaatz’s hope that the sheer amount of firepower represented there would be enough to outright cripple, if not destroy, all four Covenant capital ships.

Spaatz watched through his screen as TF Red headed in the direction of the fighting. Through the combined efforts of both TFs Gold and Blue, a corridor through the Covenant lines had been established, though it wasn’t exactly the safest. Stray plasma fire kept streaking through the dead space between ships, crisscrossing through the opening, plus a number of dogfights were taking place inside the corridor itself. As Task Force Red took to the field, her battleships were immediately set upon by an entire squadron of Seraphs.

“Warning: the _Kilkis, Reşadiye_ , and _Salamis_ are reporting incoming fighters,” Kanin reported.

“ _Ignore them!”_ Spaatz heard Amarchih immediately order over the radio. “ _All battleships, continue the advance on those cruisers! All escort carriers: deploy your fighters!”_

Spaatz crossed his arms and placed his hand against his chin in order to hide their trembling as he watched as the hangar doors to Task Force Red’s escort ships slid open and dozens of spacecraft began deploying. While some of them _were_ dedicated space fighters, a majority of them weren’t: instead they were Pelican and Darter gunships.

The problem was, due to the need to not only defend the rest of the planet from Covenant incursions, but also the high demand of ships needed for this attack, Spaatz had simply run out of fleet carriers, destroyers, and frigates. To provide escorts to his battleships as well as a fighter screen, Spaatz had been forced to turn to his remaining _Orion_ and _Poseidon_ -class carriers, as well as the Air Force’s attack transports, none of which were “true” aircraft carriers but instead, more like amphibious assault ships. Because of that, the majority of their assigned aircraft were dropships, not fighters.

He watched as his ships take a moment to pair up before rocketing off in the direction of the incoming Seraphs. But before they could get far, the Seraphs started shooting.

Spaatz could see what few Longswords in the mix easily dodging the incoming fire but for the dropships, the task was more difficult. Despite being far smaller targets than the Longswords, the dropships weren’t equipped with all the maneuvering thrusters dedicated space fighters had and could barely respond in time. And in fact, some couldn’t: explosions filled Spaatz’s screen as at least two Pelicans and a Darter were immediately hit and instantly destroyed, their lighter armor not designed for firepower of that magnitude.

His Longswords quickly returned fire, but for his dropships, they had to wait until they were able to get closer. While the dropships had been reequipped with AAMs, again, because they were never intended for air to air combat, they didn’t even have the long range sensors the Longswords did and had to rely on the seekers of each individual warhead to obtain a lock.

The Longswords had already managed to fire a second salvo before the dropships were even able to fire back. At that point, another five dropships had already been destroyed whereas none of the Seraphs had taken any damage. Finally coming within weapons range, the dropships opened up with everything they had, sending all sorts of missiles in the Seraphs’ direction, most of which proved to be fairly useless as Seraph countermeasures went to work.

“Those dropships don’t stand a chance against those Seraphs,” Spaatz mentioned out loud to Kanin.

“No, sir. But we always knew this was going to happen, sir. That’s why we made sure some Longswords were part of the screen,” Kanin reminded him. “If the dropships can lay down enough fire, the Seraphs would hopefully be too distracted to notice the Longswords coming in to finish them off. And at any case, the Seraphs will be too busy dealing with the small craft to worry about our battleships, which is the entire point of a fighter screen.”

“I know,” Spaatz murmured. Still, the sight of so much ships blinking out of existence on his screen bothered him greatly. “The sooner we finish this, the better. How soon until we come within maximum effective weapons range?”

“Thirty second, sir.”

Spaatz glanced outside. Task Force Red had officially penetrated the Covenant’s defenses; there were absolutely no more Covenant ships standing between them and the Covenant cruisers. It was time to finish this.

“Admiral Amarchih, as soon as those cruisers come within range, you may fire at will!” Spaatz barked out.

_“Aye, sir! TAO, lock all weapons onto all four cruisers and prepare to fire.”_

“Kanin, bring up those cruisers on my screen,” Spaatz commanded.

A 3D holographic image of all four Covenant cruisers suddenly appeared on Spaatz's tactical display. Task Force Red was approaching the ships from “above” and thus, Spaatz was able to plainly see all four cruisers floating over the skies of Actium.

The cruisers had adopted a sort of triangle formation: each one of the battlecruisers formed the corners and were holding position equal distance from each other, though the sensors did indicate each battlecruiser was actually floating at a different altitude. In the meantime, the heavy cruiser was positioned in the center of the triangle, directly over the Covenant landing site. Connect to a gravity lift, Spaatz could tell the Covenant were depositing all sorts of infantry and equipment onto the surface at a frantic pace. Spaatz knew his fleet had to take out those ships now, before UNSC defenses on the ground were overwhelmed by the Covenant Army.

“Kanin, give me an internal view of the _Kilkis'_ CIC,” Spaatz commanded, and his screen switched views in time for him to hear Amarchih command:

“ _Acala, designate those battlecruisers as targets 1-Delta, 2-Delta, and 3-Delta, and then designate that heavy cruiser as target 1-Echo.”_ Immediately tags began appearing on each of the ships. _“Signal the fleet, the following ships will engage the following cruiser: Kilkis and Salamis on 1-Delta, Lemnos and Fatih on 2-Delta, and the Reşadiye on 3-Delta. All battleships are to engage and keep firing until their targets are either disabled or destroy, then all ships will shift fire to target 1-Echo.”_

_“Copy that, sir!”_

“ _TAO, giving me a firing solution on 1-Delta, lock on all missile batteries, and be prepared to fire on my mark!”_

_“Aye, sir! Acquiring now! Target is… locked!”_

_“Standby!”_

Spaatz leaned forward in anticipation of what was to come. The cruisers quickly began filling his screen as Task Force Red drew closer and closer to maximum effective firing range. Technically being in space, they could have engaged thirty minutes ago, but with the Covenant holding position over Actium, any MAC shot that failed to connect would have hit the surface and into UNSC held territory, causing massive damage. They had to get to a range where the Covenant wouldn’t be able to dodge their shots so easily.

Although, at the moment, the Covenant didn’t appear to be moving at all…

Spaatz frowned. Despite TF Red's very obvious approach, the Covenant hadn’t broken formation at all. The battlecruisers’ mission was no doubt to protect the heavy cruiser as she unloaded, but Spaatz would have thought it would have been in the Covenant’s best interest to engage Task Force Red from as far away from the heavy cruiser as possible, so as to prevent the UNSC from coming within range. What were the Covenant doing?

Puzzled and more than a bit alarmed, Spaatz zoomed in on the battlecruiser the _Kilkis_ was gunning for, target 1-Delta. As he did, he noticed something was a little off about the cruiser. For one thing, it was pointed in the wrong direction, with its ventral hull facing down towards Actium, meaning the ship wouldn’t be able to use their heavy energy projectors against the approaching battleships. And second, there appeared to have a number of structures installed on the dorsal side of the battlecruiser’s hull, structures that looked familiar, but Spaatz just couldn’t identify at the moment…

_“Target in range!”_ the _Kilkis'_ TAO suddenly yelled out.

“ _All batteries, FIRE! All ships, FIRE!”_ Amarchih roared.

The _Kilkis_ immediately fired all three of her MACs, as well as sending hundreds of Archer missiles in the direction of the Covenant. At the same time, so did every other battleship assigned to Task Force Red. It was singlehandedly one of the largest salvos Spaatz had ever see in his life: fifteen Mark IV heavy MAC rounds, twelve hundred Archer missiles, and over seven thousand 50mm shells were thrown in the direction of the Covenant. Spaatz watched with bated breath as the ordnance quickly streaked across the void towards the Covenant –

\- and caused the shields on all ships to light up as the shells struck home, but doing nothing else.

Spaatz frowned. He would have thought all of that ordnance would have at least disabled the shields. Battlecruisers were strong, but surely they weren’t that strong.

" _Second salvo!" A_ marchih bellowed. " _Fire when ready!"_

Flames spat out from the front of the _Kilkis_ as she fired all three of her MACs again. A split second later, the other half of the battleship's arsenal of Archer missiles was sent following in its wake. Again, the ordnance streaked across the void and slammed into the Covenant, and again their shields flashed into existence, but nothing else happened.

"What the hell..." Spaatz muttered, that feeling of alarm growing by the second. He glance at Amarchih, who appeared to be just as confused as he felt.

" _TAO!"_ Amarchih started, then hesitated. _"Fire... fire a third salvo! Maybe the third time's a charm!"_

" _Yes, sir!" Kilkis'_ TAO replied, and Spaatz could see the man licking his lips in nervousness. " _Firing main battery!"_

The _Kilkis_ fired again. The MAC rounds smashed into the Covenant cruiser and _again_ , nothing happened. A number of nervous murmurings began to break out among Spaatz's staff as they all watched TF Red's rounds smash ineffectively against the Covenant's shields.

For his part, Spaatz was going his best to keep his panic under his control.

"Kanin," he barked. "Are our sensors calibrated correctly? We _do_ see these cruisers in front of us, and we _are_ hitting them, are we not?"

"We are, sir," Kanin replied, sounding as much of a loss as anyone. "And the sensors _are_ reading properly."

"Then how have those shields not been disabled yet!? We've already hit them with more energy output than a single ODP super MAC would have!?"

"I have no idea, sir, all I know is I'm not even reading a fluctuation in their shield strength."

_"Admiral Spaatz!"_

Spaatz jerked and glanced over in Amarchih’s direction. "Yes?"

_"Sir, permission to hit the Covenant with a Shiva?"_ he asked, and Spaatz could hear the slight desperation creeping into the man's voice.

"Granted! You’re cleared to engage with Shivas. Go nuclear!”

_“Understood, sir! TAO,_ _load up Shivas in tubes one and three! Comms, signal the Salamis to do the same and standby to fire on my mark!"_

_"Sir, nukes are primed and ready!"_

_"Standby... FIRE!"_

Spaatz held his breath as two missiles departing from their vertical launch systems mounted on the _Kilkis_ ' dorsal hull and rapidly speed in the direction of the Covenant, being joined by two other missiles launched by the _Salamis_. He leaned forward as he waited for the Covenant to evade, or launch decoys, or return fire, or do _something_ but they just sat there, waiting for... what exactly? Spaatz had no idea but suddenly, he realized he had no interest in waiting around to find out.

"Fall back."

"Excuse me, sir?"

Spaatz snapped his head in Kanin's direction. "Fall back! Kanin, signal a general withdraw, I want all battle groups to fall back to our launch position! Initiate a withdraw, NOW!"

"Sir, I -"

Whatever Kanin was about to say was cut off when there was a brilliant flash of white light as the Shivas struck home. Spaatz glanced back at his screen, only to see target 1-Delta emerging completely unscathed and he couldn't help but gap. How...??

"Sir, I’m detecting some sort of movement around target 1-Echo!" Kanin suddenly bellowed.

"What type of movement!?" Spaatz demanded as he hastily glanced at his screen in time to see some sort of… shimmering field dissipating around the heavy cruiser revealing...

"It appears to be... ships?"

At that very moment, two realizations suddenly struck Spaatz, and he abruptly realized what he'd been forgetting. One: if UNSC High Command had been able to send Spaatz reinforcements in the form of multiple battleship strike groups, then why hadn't the Covenant done the same? Two: _ORS_ -class heavy cruisers were known for, among other things, _their stealth capabilities_.

The stealth field around the heavy cruiser abruptly dissipated, whether because it had been disrupted by the radiation from the Shivas or because the Covenant decided the jig was up he didn't know, but it revealed an entirely new Covenant battle group that had previously gone undetected.

In that instant –

"Admiral, I'm detecting enemy ships in sector forty-seven!" one of Heliopolis' technicians screamed, but who he was talking to Spaatz never figured out because he immediately added, "They're launching fighters!"

At the same time, a small robotic voice chimed, _"Slipspace rupture detected."_

"Sir, I'm detecting an entire Covenant fleet emerging from slipspace on our six!" Kanin warned. "We're under attack!"

"Admiral! Emergency message from Admiral Ozzel: the Covenant are launching a massive counterattack against his battle group! He's requesting reinforcements otherwise he won't be able to hold!"

"Alert! Covenant battlecruisers are rotating on their longitudinal axis. I'm detecting a massive surge of energy: they're charging weapons!"

Spaatz sucked in a huge breath of air as his worst nightmare was suddenly coming to life. The Covenant commander had set the stage masterfully, and despite his misgivings, Spaatz had fallen for it hook, line, and sinker. There was no other way to put it: he had fucked up. The only thing left to do was to minimize the bleeding.

"Kanin, alert Admiral Pike: Task Force Green is to counterattack immediately!” Spaatz roared. “I don't care if he has to sacrifice every single one of his ships to do it, but he is to hold the rear door open so the rest of the Task Force can get out! Signal General Carter, she is to take her ship, all her naval support and immediately reinforce Task Force Green's position! The rest of her force, send to Task Force Blue and HOLD THAT CORRIDOR!”

“ _Acala, command the UNSCs_ Lemnos _and_ Reşadiye _to envelope right and provide covering fire while the rest of the battleships retreat! Captain Yirenkyi, get us the_ fuck _out of here! Admiral Spaatz, we need covering fire!”_

“Copy! Task Force Gray, target those cruisers and FIRE AT WILL!”

All sorts of alarms were howling now, both on Heliopolis Station as well as the _Kilkis,_ and crewmen were running around, trying to extract themselves and their friends from the situation they found themselves in. There was no hiding it now: the scent of panic was flooding the air.

For his part, Spaatz was frantically pouring over his screens, trying to figure out if there was something he could do as, outside, both the _Lemnos_ and the _Reşadiye_ surged towards the enemy cruisers, firing everything they had in an attempt to keep the Covenant ships off balance long enough for the rest of the task force to withdraw. At the same time, missiles were rising from the surface of Actium and heading for the same target: covering fire from the missile submarines of the Actium Navy that made up the bulk of Task Force Gray's firepower.

All sorts of projectiles smashed against the battlecruisers' shields, but it wasn't enough to deter them from finishing their half turn on their longitudinal axis.

"INCOMING!"

The cruisers fired and a bright blue beam lit up the void.

"Fuck! The _Reşadiye_ been hit! _Reşadiye_ is down, I say again, THE _REŞADIYE_ IS DOWN!"

Spaatz glanced at the screen to see the _Reşadiye_ slowly beginning to fall apart. The energy projector had slammed right into the _Reşadiye’s_ nose and burned its way lengthwise through the entire ship. Spaatz started to give the order to scramble the search and rescue Pelicans when the _Reşadiye_ abruptly exploded, possibly because her armory went up, possibly because her reactor had gone critical. But whatever the case was, it was clear no one had survived.

"Enemy warships advancing on the _Lemnos!”_

The hidden Covenant fleet had finally pulled away from the heavy cruiser's orbit, allowing Spaatz to see just how many warships had been hidden there. It wasn't much, only two _CPV_ -class heavy destroyers and five _CRS_ -class light cruisers, but these were fresh, fully equipped and fully armed ships, unlike Spaatz's battleships. Plus, they were being supported by fire from those battlecruisers.

" _Acala, order the_ Fatih _to move up, take the_ Reşadiye’s _place, and provide support to the_ Lemnos _!"_ Amarchih was yelling, even as the _Lemnos_ was struck several times by plasma torpedoes, causing fire and explosions to break out across her hull. " _Captain Yirenkyi! Get us to Task Force Blue's position so we can provide covering fire for the_ Lemnos _and_ Fatih's _retreat!"_

"Sir, Admiral Ozzel is reporting his position is rapidly becoming untenable and is requesting permission to withdraw," Kanin warned in Spaatz's ear.

"What!?” Spaatz was astounded. “NO! Tell that son of a bitch he is to hold his position until the battleships are able to fully withdraw!"

"Ah, sir, I think that might be too late: sensors indicate Task Force Blue is already initiating a withdraw!"

"WHAT!?" Spaatz demanded and rotated his screen around. Sure enough, what remained of Task Force Blue was slowly pulling back, and Covenant ships were rapidly pushing ahead to fill the gap. "Kanin, relieve Admiral Ozzel of his command and have his executive officer take charge! Inform him he is to _hold_ his position no matter the circumstances, and that I'm redeploying all of Task Force Red's escort carriers to assist!"

"Aye, sir!" Kanin yelled and Spaatz immediately grabbed his radio.

“Admiral Amarchih! Your window is closing! Do whatever you have to, just get your fleet out of that hole!"

_"Sir! Comms, signal the_ Fatih _and the_ Lemnos _and order both ships to break contact and fall back, now! TAO, give them covering fire!"_

_"Admiral, sir!"_ someone yelled and Spaatz immediately looked up, not sure which Admiral he was addressing. _"The_ Lemnos _is reporting massive damage across her entire hull! All of her MACs have been destroyed, two of her engines are out, and structural integrity is failing! Acting-captain Commander Hunter is reporting he doesn't believe his ship will be able to hold out much longer!"_

Spaatz swore and immediately pulled up a status report of the _Lemnos_. It was actually worse than the officer was saying. Just a single glance told Spaatz the ship was already dead, with her main fusion reactor disabled and her primary bridge destroyed, and all secondary systems failing. With her ammunition reserves down to sixteen percent, it was clear there were nothing left the ship could do.

"Kanin! Signal the _Lemnos_ : order Commander Hunter to initiate Cole Protocol and then..." Spaatz swallowed. "Abandon ship."

"Sir, yes, sir!"

"Admiral Amarchih! Have the _Fatih_ come about and see if they can pick up the survivors and scramble the search and rescue Pelicans!”

_“Aye, sir! Comms, have the_ Fatih _scramble the search and rescue Pelicans;_ Kilkis _,_ Salamis _: covering fire for the_ Fatih _, now!"_

_"Sir, the Fatih is getting swarmed by fighters and Captain Usman is reporting he's not going to able to make it to the Lemnos!" someone warned._

"Sir, message from General Carter! The _Liaoning_ has been destroyed and Admiral Pike has fallen! General Carter is taking over Task Force Green, however she is also reporting roughly half her assigned fighters have been destroyed and warns she's not sure how much longer she'll be able to hold out!" Kanin warned.

"Admiral, the commander of Task Force Blue is reporting his flagship, the _Vanguard_ , is receiving massive amounts of damage and will not be able to maintain his position for much longer!" someone else yelled at the same time.

Spaatz pinched his nose and exhaled loudly, trying to find his center. It was too much: so much was going on, everyone was yelling where it was to the point Spaatz could no longer tell who was saying what to whom, things were getting so muddled he could no longer keep track of what was going on and who was about to be overrun, he didn’t even know who was alive and who was in charge anymore and all the while, on screen, a red wave was threatening to overwhelm the rest of his forces and all Spaatz wanted to do was slap his hands over his ears and start screaming but he couldn’t because he was the commander.

And because of that reason alone, it was time to make some hard decisions.

“Kanin, have..." Spaatz hesitated. "Kanin, connect me to Amarchih.”

“You already are, sir.”

Spaatz glanced at his screen then, in as firm of a voice as he could possibly managed, he said, “Admiral Azouz Amarchih: I am hereby ordering the UNSC _Fatih_ to hold their position and delay the Covenant advance. The _Kilkis_ and _Salamis_ are to use this time to retreat pass Task Force Blue. As soon as Task Force Red is clear, Task Force Blue will then fall back."

He glanced at Amarchih, only to see a rather shocked look on his face.

_"Sir, that's -"_ he began.

"Admiral, was any part of that order unclear!?" Spaatz snarled.

_"No, sir!"_

"Then see that they get executed **_now_** , Admiral!"

_"…Aye, sir._ Kilkis _to_ Fatih: _hold the Covenant back. Everyone else, fall back."_

There was a split second moment of silence, as everyone listening realized what those orders actually meant. In the silence, Spaatz could feel the stare of everyone inside Heliopolis Station’s CIC on his back, but he refused to waver, no matter how much he would like to. This had to be done; there was no other way.

The spell was suddenly broken when, on screen, both the _Kilkis_ and the _Salamis_ abruptly ignited their portside maneuvering thrusters, doing a full one hundred eight degree turn so they could fall back alongside their remaining escorts. At the same time, the _Fatih –_ no doubt comprehending what Spaatz intended for them to do – activated their main thrusters and began a reckless charge at the incoming Covenant ships attempting to overwhelm what remained of TF Red. The _Fatih_ slammed into a light cruiser that wasn't quite able to clear out of the way in time, instantly destroying the ship, however that’s all the _Fatih_ was able to accomplish as - seconds later - she was speared amidship by two energy projectors, cutting the ship in half. Despite this, crew refused to go down without a fight as both halves continued to fire nonstop, but with Covenant fighters and warships closing in from all directions, the fighting was pretty much over.

In the meantime, the rest of TF Red was speeding past TF Blue’s position, whose ships immediately enveloped the two remaining battleships in preparation for their own retreat.

"Sir,” Kanin softly announced. “General Carter's defense are failing. Enemy ships have broken through in sector three five niner."

Spaatz nodded his head, not trusting himself to speak right now, but fortunately he didn’t have to as Amarchih knew exactly what he had to do.

_"Captain Yirenkyi,_ ” Amarchih roared. _“Hit those ships head on! Our job now is to hold open our corridor to allow Task Force Blue the chance to withdraw!"_

_“Yes, sir!"_ Spaatz heard Yirenkyi replied. _"Alright guys, we're not out of the woods just yet! Helm, check port fifteen degrees and drop down to full speed! TAO, find me a target!"_

The remains of TF Red dropped back to attack speed, and Spaatz quickly turned his attention to the Covenant task force that had been attempting to close in from the rear. No new battlecruisers or heavy cruisers had arrived, thank goodness, but the new fleet did include two _DDS_ -class carriers, as well as fresh new corvettes and destroyers.

_"Captain, carrier 1-Foxtrot is beginning to deploy fighters!"_ someone on the _Kilkis_ warned.

_"We can't let them finish! All batteries, target that carrier! FIRE!"_

The _Kilkis_ fired all three of her MACs in rapid succession, and Spaatz waited with bated breath as the rounds sped down range. The first two rounds smashed into the carrier's shields, causing them to light up, but then the third rammed home and they instantly shattered.

Spaatz let out a sigh of relief. Whatever had managed to supercharge the battlecruisers' shields, it clearly didn't extend to the rest of the Covenant fleet. That was good as it meant there was a chance Task Force Whiskey actually might make it out alive.

_"Lock on to those hanger bays with Archer pods and fire when ready!"_

_"Missiles away, sir!"_

The missiles streaked towards the Covenant carrier, only for them to start prematurely exploding as the Covenant fighters deliberately started flying in their path, trying to intercept the missiles before they could hit their mothership. Before anyone could find out who would prevail, the missiles or the fighters, a MAC round suddenly plowed through the mass and slammed into the carrier. All sorts of secondary explosions began going off as the MAC shell smashed into the hanger bay and out the other side, cutting through whatever stood in its path.

Tracing the MAC back to its source, Spaatz spotted the _Vanguard_ , heavily damaged but clearly still functioning, coming up the _Kilkis_ ' flank in support. Behind her, Spaatz could see the _Salamis_ and the rest of TF Red engaging the rest of the Covenant warships coming up on the rear, doing their best to keep them at bay. Of the Covenant battlecruisers though, Spaatz spotted no sign.

“Kanin, give me a sitrep on those battlecruisers,” Spaatz demanded. “What are they doing?"

"The battlecruisers appear to be hold formation over Actium, sir," Kanin immediately reported. "They have not moved at all since we engaged them, though I cannot even begin to speculate as to why."

"That's fine, let them stay there for now,” Spaatz replied, his eyes locked on the fighting. “Keep an eye on them and let me know if they change their mind."

"Yes, sir."

Outside, the remaining ships of Task Force Blue were streaming passed the battleships and heading to support Task Force Green in holding the Covenant back. In the meantime, both the _Kilkis_ and the _Vanguard_ continued to pound target 1-Foxtrot with MAC rounds, which was steadily falling apart under the barrage, leaving behind only about a hundred or so fighters that had managed to escape the ship before its destruction. Spaatz could see them ignite their afterburners and go straight for the _Vanguard_ , most likely in an attempt to finish the ship off.

_"Fighters, incoming on a direct trajectory to the_ Vanguard!"

_"Captain, put us on an intercept course between those fighters and the_ Vanguard!" Amarchih barked. _"Admiral Spaatz, any chance we could get some fighter support?"_

Spaatz quickly studied his screen, trying to figure which one of his fleet carriers still had fighters left.

"Kanin, reroute the _São Paulo_ to their location and have their fighter wings assist!" he commanded.

"Copy that, sir, rerouting now!"

"Admiral Amarchih, have the _Vanguard_ push past Green and Blue's position and fall back to their assembly location! Kanin, have Heliopolis Station standing by to provide covering fire for them if need be."

"Sir!"

Spaatz glanced around. The Longswords from the _São Paulo_ , supported by anti-aircraft fire from the _Kilkis_ , were rushing towards the Covenant fighters. In the meantime, the _Vanguard_ had broken contact and was very hurriedly pushing through Task Force Blue's position, and back towards the area where TF Whiskey had initially rallied before the battle had even begun.

"Task Force Red, break contact and fall back!" Spaatz ordered. “Kanin, signal Blue and Task Force Greens to cover them!”

The _Kilkis_ started moving away, followed closely by the _São Paulo_ and her fighters. The Covenant weren’t interested in letting them get away that easily, however the remaining carriers of TF Blue, along with the cruisers of TF Green, sent a few dozen MAC rounds in the Covenant’s direction, preventing them from forming up. They continued to fire at the Covenant as the remainder of TF Red streamed passed.

“Task Force Red, establish a firing position at this location,” Spaatz jabbed a finger at his screen, marking a random spot in orbit. “Lay down some covering fire so that TFs Blue and Green can fall back to our original assembly location. TF Blue and Green, fall back, now!”

The ships of TF Blue and Green quickly broke contact. As their fire slackened, the Covenant warships started to try and pursue, but fire from TF Red cut through their ranks once again, preventing them from forming up.

“Task Force Red, fall back now!” Spaatz ordered as the last of the ships from TF Green reported they had returned to the assembly area.

Spaatz’s remaining battleships quickly turned tail and started to fall back. By now, the Covenant had decided to give up the pursuit, and had fallen back to defend their cruisers, allowing whatever was left of TF Whiskey to survive to fight another day.

But even as the last ship reported in, Spaatz’s mind wasn’t occupied with the battle that had just ended, but that of the battles yet to come. His attack had failed.

Badly.

What were the consequences going to be for the rest of the campaign?

* * *

General Notes:

Ships mentioned in this chapter:

**UNSC _Löwenhardt:_** this ship is named after Oberleutnant (Senior Lieutenant) Erich Löwenhardt **,** a fighter pilot for the Deutsche Luftstreikträfte (Imperial German Army Air Service) during World War I. As a military cadet enrolled at the military school in Lichtfelder when WWI broke out in 1914, Löwenhardt initially saw service with the German Army’s Infantry Regiment Nr. 141 as an enlisted infantryman, seeing service on the Eastern Front fighting against Russia where he most notably fought in the Battle of Tannenberg. As a reward for his bravery during that battle, he was commissioned as an officer. In early 1915, then-Leutnant Löwenhardt was awarded the Iron Cross, 1st Class for saving the lives of five wounded men.

In 1916, Löwenhardt volunteered for service with the Imperial German Army Air Service, becoming a full-fledged fighter pilot in March of 1917. Between March of 1917 and August of 1918, Löwenhardt would score a total of fifty-four victories, making him German’s third highest flying ace of WWI. Unfortunately, on August 10, 1918, moments after scoring his fifty-fourth victory, Löwenhardt suffered a mid-air collision with another German aircraft. Both pilots bailed out, however Löwenhardt’s parachute failed to open, and he fell to his death. He was only 21 years old.

**UNSC _Iqbal:_** unlike the other ships mentioned in this story, the name of this ship is not derived from any historical or real life figure, but an original creation. In an earlier draft of this story, Major General Suzan Iqbal would have been an ancestor of General Tevita Iqbal (who, if you recall, is the commanding officer of Actium's Orbital Defense Command.)

Suzan Iqbal's (fictional) historical biography was that she was an Air Force fighter pilot, and both a Legion of Honor recipient, as well as the UNSC's highest scoring fighter ace in the Martian Theatre during the Interplanetary War.

**UNSC _Vanguard_ : **this ship is named after the HMS _Vanguard_ who, despite her name, was the last battleship in the world to be built (she was completed in 1946; French battleship _Jean Bart_ technically was completed later, in 1955, but the _Jean Bart_ was actually laid down earlier, in 1936 versus the _Vanguard,_ which was laid down in 1941.)

In my headcanon, I figured the UNSC _Vanguard_ would have been the last _Valiant-_ class super-heavy cruiser to be built and plus, I liked the irony of the name. (A note on the ship class: “super-heavy cruiser” is not something I made up - that's straight from canon. I honestly think it’s a stupid name, but it’s not something I particularly care to change.)

**UNSC _Liaoning_** : this ship is named after the _Liaoning_ , the first aircraft carrier to be commissioned by the People’s Liberation Army Navy Surface Force of the People's Republic of China. The ship in turn was named after the Liaoning Province in Northeast China, located on the Yellow Sea.

**UNSC _Fatih_ and _Reşadiye_** : these ships are named after former Ottoman Empire battleships. The _Reşadiye_ was ordered from British shipyards in 1911, however it was never delivered as the ship was seized by the Royal Navy upon the outbreak of WWI for their own use and renamed the HMS _Erin._ Meanwhile, the _Fatih_ (full name _Fatih Sultan Mehmed,)_ which had only been ordered in 1914, was also seized, however so little work had been done, the ship was ultimately scrapped.

According to some sources, the seizure of these ships (which had already been bought and paid for by the Ottomans,) was part of the reason why the Ottoman Empire ultimately decided to join WWI on the side of the Central Powers, as opposed to the Entente Powers.

(I decided to use these names because it was partly because of these ships that the Greek Navy decided to acquire their own battleships, the _Kilkis, Salamais, Lemnos,_ and a four ship, the _Vasilefs Konstantinos.)_

Other Notes:

**UNSC Air Force Group:** I mentioned somewhere at some point in one of my stories, I thought it would be cool if the UNSC Air Force had more of a British Royal Air Force heritage, as opposed to a United States Air Force one. Part of that involves adopted the RAF unit structure so, units go (from smallest to biggest): Flight, Squadron, Wing, Group, Tactical Air Force, and Command. It’s a little hard to describe what each unit does, but essentially, an air force group is roughly equivalent in size and responsibility to an army division.

**Samantha Carter, Ozzel, and Christopher Pike:** these are all references to leaders from other scifi series. Samantha Carter is one of the main characters from the TV series, _Stargate SG-1,_ Ozzel is from _Star Wars: Episode V - The Empire Strikes Back_ (he's the Imperial officer Darth Vadar executes for jumping too close to Hoth,) and Christopher Pike is from _Star Trek,_ being captain of the USS _Enterprise_ just before Captain Kirk.

**_ORS-_ class Heavy Cruiser: **according to Halopedia, _ORS-_ class cruisers “boast a variety of stealth-related advancements.” To be honest, I interpret this more like the stealth coating one would find on a B-2 bomber or F-22 Raptor, but it worked out better for this chapter if it meant more like the cruiser was capable of generating a stealth field around it (similar to the way the Protoss Motherships work in Starcraft 2.)

**“Classified Program":** General Carter's classified program isn’t just supposed to be a thinly veiled reference to the Stargate Program, it’s also me partially trying to change canon.

One of things I don’t like about the Halo Universe is just this idea that somehow ONI is the only organization responsible for every single advancement in human technology (i.e., the Spartan Program,) reverse engineering Covenant tech, as well as all covert ops. In my mind, said responsibilities would be more equally divided among the different military branches. In this case, while the Navy would have a focus on development and reverse engineering of Covenant technology, the Air Force would be responsible for research into “alternative methods.”


	11. Operation: SCALPEL

**Heliopolis Station, High Orbit, Actium  
May 6, 2545  
1107**

**Spaatz**

" - and battleships _Reşadiye_ , _Fatih_ , and _Lemnos_ were all destroyed with all hands lost. Other fatalities include the UNSC _Liaoning_ , though search and rescue Pelicans were able to recover roughly seventy percent of her crews,” Kanin recited to the room at large, a somber look on his furry face. "Casualties include: carrier _São Paulo_ , who suffered damage to her cooling system resulting in an overload of all three of her fusion reactors, as well as heavy damage to her primary bridge, which disrupted her navigation.”

"More casualties include Air Force carrier _Iqbal_ , who was hit by a kamikaze Banshee on her forward bow resulting in thirty casualties and damage to her primary sensor and communications array. Air Force carrier _Löwenhardt_ , who suffered an explosion inside one of her hanger bays resulting in hull breach and one hundred and thirteen casualties. Super-heavy cruiser _Vanguard_ , who suffered massive damage to roughly eighty percent of her hull. Escort ships -"

Spaatz held up his hand, stopping Kanin before he could continue. "Did any of these casualties suffer from irreparable damage?" he demanded to know.

"No, sir. The _Iqbal_ will require a replacement of her primary sensors, which can be accomplished within twelve hours although she is capable of operating with reduced efficiency on secondary systems. The _Löwenhardt_ will require repairs for the hull breach, though work has already begun and the ship should be operating at maximum efficiency within twenty-seven hours. The _São Paulo_ will need a complete overhaul of her reactors, though that will take, at minimum, seventy-two hours."

"The _Kilkis_ , _Salamis_ , and _Vanguard_ will all require several days in the dry docks, though strictly speaking, as neither ship suffered damage to critical systems, both the _Kilkis_ and the _Salamis_ are capable of combat operations. Albeit, they would be operating at fifty percent operational status. The _Vanguard,_ on the other hand, will require a minimum of seven Actium days of repair in the dry docks, though that time may be able to be reduced depending on crew availability and supplies."

"Priority number one is to get all battleships back up to within ninety percent combat operational status," Spaatz interrupted before Kanin could continue. "Priority number two is to get the reactors on the _São Paulo_ replaced so she’s able to use her MACs; that way, in a pinch, at the very least we can use her in an anti-ship role. I’m not particularly concerned about the Air Force carriers: they're not intended for frontline combat and besides, until we get more fighters, we're not going to be able to replace their air wings, making them nothing more than oversized anti-aircraft platforms."

Spaatz heard a slight cough and he glanced at the source. Aside from Kanin and himself, the chiefs of his intelligence departments, as well as Admirals D’Amboise and Amarchih, were also in attendance. The cough had originated from General Kendrick, the head of the Air Force Intelligence Command, so Spaatz turned to face him.

"You disagree, General Kendrick?"

_"Not so much a disagreement, sir, but an inquiry,"_ Kendrick corrected. _"Could we not simply replace the Air Force carriers’ air wings with the fighters from the Navy? After all, if you intend to use your carriers in an anti-ship role, then what would the point of having fighters be?"_

"There aren't enough naval fighters to replace the air wings on both carriers," Spaatz replied. "Furthermore, I'm concerned about the size difference between the two different types of fighters, plus the difference in training between ground crews, the different logistic requirements of the fighters, etc."

Kendrick nodded and Spaatz waited until he fell silent before continuing.

"Let's move on. Covenant casualties. What do we know about them?"

Spaatz glanced at Admiral al-Cygni, head of Ambracia System's ONI branch, who took it as her cue to begin speaking.

_"At the moment, my department is currently analyzing every scrap of data we've managed to obtain so far. Our current dilemma, however, is there is some confusion as to which ships were already in the system prior to this operation, and what arrived during the course of the battle. The task force that was hidden by the heavy cruiser for example: we're still attempting to determine whether or not they arrived at the same time as the cruiser did and have just been hidden this entire time, or they're ships that were already in the system and only moved into hiding once the Covenant realized what the situation was, or if they're a brand new task force that arrived as reinforcements and were immediately moved into hiding. The last option is probably the most likely, as the heavy cruiser was unaccounted for during much of the initial stages of the battle, and with most of our reconnaissance and surveillance grid having been damaged by the fighting, if the Covenant had emerged from slipspace around, say, Tenedos, we could have easily missed their arrival."_

Kendrick leaned forward. _"So,_ **do** _we have a count of the amount of damage TF Whiskey inflicted on the Covenant?"_

_"We have an idea, but no specific numbers at this juncture,"_ al-Cygni admitted.

"None of which matters because we know for certain we weren't able to disable, much less damage, any of those cruisers, making this entire operation a failure," Spaatz snapped.

_"With all due respect sir, I wouldn't go so far as to call it a_ complete _failure_ ," al-Cygni argued. _"Preliminary data does suggest TF Whiskey managed to inflict just as much damage on the Covenant as they did to us."_

_"Furthermore, sir,"_ Kendrick added, _"we are still receiving reinforcements. The No. 97 Strategic Airlift Group just arrived in system, bringing not only an entirely new carrier and air wings, but our first ground troop reinforcements: the Army's 222nd Airborne Division."_

_"Unfortunately, that's not as beneficial as it may seem,"_ Harper interjected. _"The 222nd was just rotated out of the Newsaka Campaign roughly a week ago and were on their way back to garrison for rest and refit before they were diverted here. As such, they're not at full strength._

_"How bad is it?"_ al-Cygni asked.

Harper shrugged. _"Not counting individual augmentations from the Air Force?"_ he said, tilting his head in Kendrick’s direction. _"The division is only at roughly twenty-four percent of their total authorized strength."_

_"That's still a little over seven thousand soldiers, is it not?"_ Kendrick pointed out. _"Granted, most of that is probably rear echelon support troops, but still, not an insignificant number."_

_"Yes, but how many soldiers have the Covenant managed to deploy onto the surface?"_ al-Cygni countered.

"That hardly matters at the moment because while the Covenant cruisers continue to hold position over their landing site, they will be able to continue deploying ground troops indefinitely," Spaatz pointed out. "And with those cruisers in the way, we won't be able to deploy our reinforcements to where they're needed most. No, our focus right now is to figure out how to dislodge those cruisers. And what I want to know is how those ships manage to survive the full force of TF Whiskey without a scratch. Any ideas?"

_"Yes, sir. We think we have a pretty good idea as to what happened,"_ al-Cygni stated.

She called forth an image of a single battlecruiser, one that Spaatz recognized as target 1-Delta, the ship the _Kilkis_ and the _Salamis_ had been tasked with to destroy. Al-Cygni pressed a button and zoomed in on the ship's dorsal hull, specifically on the same structures Spaatz had noticed prior to opening fire.

_"These structures attached to this ship are Covenant shield generators,"_ al-Cygni reported, and suddenly Spaatz realized why they had seemed so familiar _. "We've seen them in the past before: the Covenant generally use them to protect their ground installations whenever they set up a main operating base during their ground invasions, though this is the first time we've ever seen them installed on a ship before in this manner, as they would be redundant. We believe the Covenant were using these generators to supercharge the shields on_ **all** _of their cruisers, a sort of overshield if you will, similar to what Elites have been observed using in ground invasions and ship boarding actions."_

Spaatz frowned as he called forth an image of the battlecruiser in question he had captured himself during the battle. The use of extra shield generators would help explain some of the Covenant's actions, but not all of them. "This ship doesn't appear to have any extra power generators installed, nor did sensors registered any additional power sources aboard that ship."

_"That is correct, sir."_

"Then where the hell did the Covenant get all their extra power from?" Spaatz demanded to know. "Those extra shield generators would have required an absurd amount of power, especially if they were providing coverage for all four cruisers. That sort of power would require... an external source at the very least."

_"You are correct in that regard, sir, the power requirements for such an activity would exceed that which the ship's onboard reactors would have been able to supply, especially if they also wished to fire their weapons. How they managed to accomplish that, sir… that’s a little harder to answer as Covenant technology is still a bit of an unknown factor to us.”_

Spaatz sighed. “Give me your best guess.”

_“The Covenant were somehow able to interconnect their power generators. In simplest terms, the fusion reactors on all four cruisers acted as one, feeding each other power.”_

Spaatz blinked in confusion at that. “If the Covenant are able to do something like that, how come this is the first time we're seeing it?”

_“Well, sir, aside from the fact that said modifications are usually frowned upon by the Covenant's Command – something about how all their technology has been ‘perfected' already by their Ancestors and thus, it would be impossible and even hearsay to suggest they can be improved on – we believe there would be significant drawbacks to the Covenant's current tactic,”_ al-Cygni explained. _“The primary drawback would be that interlinking their generators means only the one ship that's receiving the power is able to do anything: power shields, charge weapons, or even move. The other ships are essentially reliant on the shield ship for safety.”_

_“The upside to this tactic is that – as we've seen – the shields generated by the shield ship are absurdly powerful. Furthermore, it allows the other ships in the fleet the ability to focus on other tasks; for example, transporting and delivering massive amounts of soldiers and material needed in order to establish a fully functioning and operational base, as you’ve now got less room being taken up by things like weapons and munitions. Given what we suspected about the Covenant intentions here, it’s entirely possible the Covenant had planned to beach one or more of their cruisers on the surface to create an instant forward operating base only, our unexpected occupation of this planet long before their arrival has thrown those plans out the window.”_

Spaatz took a moment to absorb everything al-Cygni had just told him, before speaking up. “So, what I’m hearing, Admiral, is our primary focus should be on target 1-Delta. If we're able to destroy that cruiser… the rest of the fleet will be left defenseless?”

_“Not… entirely, sir,”_ al-Cygni admitted. _“As far as we can tell, the remaining cruisers still have their shield generators installed, they're just not turned on. If 1-Delta were to suddenly be destroyed, there would probably be a small window in where the remaining cruisers **are** defenseless, but it would only last until they restart their reactors and reactivate their systems.”_

There was a shuffling noise and Spaatz glanced over his shoulder to see D'Amboise leaning forward. “How small of a window are we talking about here, Jilan?”

Al-Cygni glanced at Kendrick, who gave a helpless shrug. _“Best guess, sir? We're probably looking at a five minute window.”_

D'Amboise frowned. “That's not a lot of time.”

_“Again, sir, it’s just a guess. We might have more time or! conversely, we might have less. It's… well, it’s difficult to say for certain.”_

“As interesting as this is, I feel it’s prudent to remind everyone that none of this really matters because we don’t have any way of destroying 1-Delta in the first place,” Spaatz loudly interrupted. “TF Whiskey is clearly in no shape to attempt anymore assaults on those cruisers and even if they were, we already hit them with everything we had and it didn’t work. We need another solution.” He glanced around the room. “Suggestions?”

The room was deafeningly and depressingly quiet for a few long minutes, before someone abruptly cleared their throat. Spaatz looked around to see Colonel Harper, deputy commander of the UNSC Army's INSCOM, climbing to his feet.

_“Sir, I may have something that could prove to be a solution to our current dilemma.”_

He gestured at something off screen. At once, his hologram expanded to reveal two men standing beside him: one wearing the service uniform of the UNSC Navy, the other, Army. Both uniforms were completely sterile of all badges and identification markings, causing Spaatz to instantly be wary as that could only mean one thing: both men were from black ops.

“Colonel Harper,” Spaatz began, and he found himself half rising out of chair, a move he immediately suppressed. “Care to explain yourself?”

_“Apologies, Admiral Spaatz, for the interruption,”_ the man in the Army uniform began before Harper could. _“My companion and I were monitoring your situation here in the system, and we felt it was best to offer you our help.”_

_“My name is Major Den Volkov,_ _of the UNSC Army’s Special Warfare Group Three,”_ the man continued before Spaatz could question what he meant by ‘monitoring.’ _“Sir, I’m sending you and your staff some classified files that I believe you ought to read.”_

Spaatz glanced at Harper, who gave a single nod of agreement, before glancing around the room at everyone else, all of whom seemed be as mystified as he was. Because of that, Spaatz decided to play along. “Alright…”

There was a mute _ping_ from his console, and Spaatz glanced at Kanin, who blinked once before nodding, verifying the file was safe to open. Feeling rather confused and honestly a little bit worried, Spaatz accessed the file and quickly began to read. As he did, he could feel his eyebrows rising in disbelief.

“ _What the fuck…”_ he heard someone mutter, and Spaatz couldn’t help but agree with the sentiment. If what was being said on these files was true, then… well, Spaatz in truth needed a few moments to work through the implications. Fortunately, not everyone in his staff was as slow as he was.

_“Is this legitimate?”_ al-Cygni suddenly demanded, and Spaatz looked up to see her addressing the naval officer standing next to Volkov. _“And if so, who the hell gave you authorization to share this information?”_

_“That's Admiral Parangosky’s seal of approval, ma'am,”_ the man quickly replied. _“As for the legitimacy of the contents, I assure you, ma'am, they’re real: I’ve seen them in action.”_

Spaatz glanced up at that.

"And who the hell are you again?" he demanded to know, not caring about how rude he sounded.

The man snapped to attention.

_"Lieutenant Commander Stephen Luzader, sir, ONI Prowler Corps and captain of the UNSC_ Moonlight Sonata _,”_ the man rattled off. _"Hull classification number PRO-41673."_

He started to say something else, but Spaatz cut him off by lifting his index finger. He glanced at Kanin, who subtly shook his head: no ship by that name or hull number appeared in the registration, or the records. Which meant whatever Major Volkov and Commander Luzader had been up to, it had been kept off the books. And Spaatz _hated_ being left in the dark.

He glanced at al-Cygni. "Did you know about this?" he demanded.

_"No, sir,"_ al-Cygni replied with a shake of her head.

"And why the hell not? You're the head of the local ONI branch. Aren't you supposed to know everything your department is doing in your AO?"

_"Commander Luzader here reports to Section Three, sir, while I'm with Section One. Section Three answers directly to Admiral Parangosky, and no one else, sir. Commander Luzader was under no obligation to inform me of his presence here in the system,"_ al-Cygni reported, her voice sounding strained, and Spaatz could tell she was just as unhappy about this development as he was.

Spaatz snorted. "You guys ever consider this is the reason why no one trust ONI?" he asked out loud as he started pacing the room (and when had he stood up?) "Your departments won't even talk to each _other_ , much less anyone else."

Both al-Cygni and Luzader remained silent, more than likely picking up on the rhetorical nature of Spaatz's comment.

Spaatz abruptly paused in his pacing to glance at Harper. “And how did _you_ know about this, Colonel? You’re not even the CO of your department!”

_“Due to multiple tragic and very **public** mishaps at the beginning of the Insurrection, Army Command mandated that both INSCOM and Army Special Operations Command take steps to ensure greater integration in order to prevent our black op units from running missions counter to one another,” _Harper explained. _“As part of that integration, all ASOC field commanders are required to report their presence- if not their reasoning – to the commanding officer of whatever local INSCOM branch there might be. In this situation, that happened to be me.”_

Spaatz glared at him. "And you didn't think to inform me?"

To Spaatz's annoyance, Harper looked completely unrepentant. _"With all due respect, sir, you didn't have the security clearance to know."_

Spaatz gaped at him. "I am a four star admiral in charge of an entire military system and in command of one of the strongest military forces in the entirety of UNSC controlled space! How do **I** not have security clearance!?"

_"Simply put, sir, you weren't 'in the know.'"_

That temporarily put a stop to Spaatz's rant. The "need to know" aspect of security clearance was just another layer of security, a way to compartmentalize classified information. Not everyone with security clearance had access to everything, just the things they "needed to know" for their job. That way, in the event someone's credentials were ever compromised, a hacker or foreign agent would only have access to that one particular individual's files, as opposed to being able to compromise the entire system.

Spaatz understood the thinking, and normally he would have agreed with it. But under the circumstances...

"I think I would have needed to know there was a team of highly trained special forces operatives running operations in my area of responsibility," Spaatz bellowed. "It might have altered my plans, wouldn't you agree, _Colonel_!?"

_"Perhaps. But you know just as well as I do, sir, that's up to the Security Council, not me,"_ Harper calmly pointed out.

That answer didn't really mollify Spaatz in any way shape or form, but since there was nothing inaccurate about Harper's statement, Spaatz found he couldn't retort. So instead, he busied himself with the files Volkov had handed to him.

"And who's the fucking moron who decided to name this program after a bunch of ancient warriors, whose entire reputation has been vastly overblown by popular media and pop culture?" Spaatz exclaimed.

There was a silent cough that caught Spaatz's attention and turned around to see Kendrick leaning forward in his seat.

_"Sir, with all due respect, I think we're losing focus of the topic at hand,"_ he began. _"I'm sure the 'Spartan' name was chosen at random, and not necessarily indicative of the organization's capabilities."_

Spaatz abruptly stopped him before he could continue. "Did _you_ know about them, General!?"

Kendrick visibly bit back a sigh. _"No, sir. But then again, that doesn't really fall under the purview of the Air Force. While the Army is focused on destroying the Insurgency, the Marine Corps on developing homegrown technology, and the Navy on unlocking the mysteries of the Covenant, the Air Force has been exploring... alternative avenues of research."_

The mysterious way Kendrick said that last part gave Spaatz pause and he immediately called to mind the classified program General Carter had worked on for most of her military career, and he couldn't help but wonder if they were somehow related. He knew better than to ask though. While AFIC didn't possess ONI's casually ruthless reputation, that's not to say they weren't dangerous in their own right.

_"Furthermore, sir,"_ Kendrick continued while Spaatz was distracted. _"Even if I had known about these Spartans, I have to ask: would it matter now?"_

Spaatz sighed. Truth be told, it ultimately didn't matter if he didn't know this information five hours ago or even five minutes ago, what mattered is that he was aware of it _now_. And as much as he would have liked to continue ranting and raving like an ensign fresh out of the academy whining about how he hadn't been saluted by the ship's master chief petty officer, he had other priorities to worry about.

"What exactly do you do, Major Volkov," Spaatz finally asked, noticing, out of the corner of his eye, the man in question snapping to attention. "I've never heard of Special Warfare Group Three."

_"It’s a joint military special operations unit under Army control, sir, though despite what Colonel Harper stated, we actually report directly to SPECWARCOM, not ASOC,"_ Volkov smoothly replied. _"We're tasked with missions that one individual branch would not be able to accomplish by themselves. Most of our assets are drawn from within the Army itself, however often times we work in conjunction with other elements: local law enforcement, Colonial Militia armored units, Air Force CAS and security elements, or in this case,"_ Volkov nodded at Luzader, _"Navy operatives."_

"But according to these files you've given me, most of your support units have yet to arrive in system," Spaatz noted as he flipped through the documents. "In fact, if I've read this correctly, it would seem your ground team consists of a grand total of... three operators."

_"That is correct, sir."_

Spaatz raised an eyebrow. "Then, forgive me Major, but I fail to see how three... Spartans," he said the name with a bit of distaste, "could hope to destroy an entire battlecruiser by themselves."

_"Without going into too many details, sir, I would like to point out, this is not without precedent,"_ Volkov noted. _"And furthermore, sir, on a more personal note, if you had seen what these Spartans have done, there would be no doubt in your mind of their capabilities."_

Spaatz frowned. "So, you've worked with these Spartans before, have you?"

_"Yes, sir. We've run a couple of counterinsurgency operations in the past with their assistance."_

The mention of counterinsurgency operations abruptly rang a bell in Spaatz's mind. Wasn't there some sort of scandal involving Army special operational forces committing war crimes on an Innie held world a few years ago? He specifically remembered a Lieutenant Colonel Volk or Vulcan being involved. Was it possible this was the same man?

Of course, Spaatz couldn't remember. Truth be told, once the war against the Covenant had truly begun in earnest, he had simply stopping paying any heed to the Insurgency.

Shaking his head, Spaatz turned his attention back to the topic at hand. Three operatives destroying an entire battlecruiser by themselves? Seemed unlikely. But then again, it had been his experience most officers wouldn't dare make such a bold claim without at least some evidence to support it. Oh sure, officers, like all soldiers, enjoyed embellishing their accomplishments every now and then, but nothing to this degree, which made Spaatz _slightly_ more inclined to believe it.

But still, three men? Or more specifically, two men and one woman? That didn't seem likely.

Spaatz glanced at his intelligence chiefs. "Well? Thoughts? Opinions? I'm open to suggestions."

_"Sir, I’m free to admit that this is not the first time I’ve ever heard of Spartans before,”_ al-Cygni began. _“I’m also free to admit that I’ve even read some of their low clearance after-action reports. Without delving too deeply, there was nothing in those reports that would lead me to believe Major Volkov's team would be anything but **successful**."_

She sat back and Kendrick quickly took her place.

_“Sir, I hate to be the one to point this out, but whether or not Major Volkov is accurate in his assessment of his team is irrelevant to the topic at hand. The truth of the matter is, we don’t have a lot of other options,_ ” Kendrick pointed out. _“And while I don’t want to minimize the personal risk for the operatives involved, in the grand scheme of things, utilizing these Spartans is the only option that possesses the lowest amount of risk to our forces, while offering the highest rewards.”_

Spaatz nodded in acknowledgement, then glanced at Harper.

_“Personally, sir, I'm more concerned about the execution of the plan,"_ Harper stated. _"Major Volkov has given us a rough outline involving his team boarding the target and destroying it from within with a tactical nuke, however he hasn’t explained how his team will be able to even make it aboard the target in the first place. Commander Luzader, will the stealth capabilities of your ship allow you to approach undetected?"_

Spaatz glanced at Luzader, who grimaced.

_"I’m afraid not, sirs,"_ Luzader admitted. _"While the_ Sonata _is equipped with the latest stealth technology, those still work best from afar. If we were to close that distance, the likelihood of detection by the Covenant would increase exponentially with every kilometer we advanced. Maybe more, given there is nothing but dead space between us and Covenant positions. In order for us to maximize our stealth capabilities, we would need background clutter such as other ships or even debris to help mask our approach."_

Harper nodded, as if that was what he expected.

" _Furthermore, even if you could approach undetected, there's still the question as to how you would even be able to pass through the shield in order to get on the ship’s hull,"_ he pointed out. _"You would need the fleet to disable the shield...but if we could do that, we wouldn’t need your team, Major."_

_"Certainly seems to be a true Catch-22,"_ Kendrick agreed. _"We need your team to destroy that ship to disable their shield so that the fleet can advance, but in order for your team to board, we need that shield disabled."_

_"That’s not entirely true, sir. Correct me if I’m wrong, but at the moment, the Covenant are continually reinforcing their landing site with troops via a gravity lift?”_ Volkov asked.

Spaatz automatically glanced at Kanin, who nodded in affirmation.

_“Then, as I’m sure you’re all aware, in order to accomplish that, the Covenant would need to weaken their shields enough to allow solid matter to pass through them. That’s a window my men could easily exploit.”_

“You think the Covenant won’t notice three small objected headed towards one of their ships at high velocity?”

_“They won’t if they’re preoccupied by other targets.”_

Spaatz raised an eyebrow. “You're talking about launching a distraction attack? A feint like that will only work if the attack is coming from the same direction. Given how close the cruisers are stationed to the planet, that doesn’t give our warships a lot of room to maneuver, even if I did have warships to spare for an attack like that, which I don’t anymore due to the sheer amount of casualties TF Whiskey has taken.”

“Could we use fighters, sir?”

Spaatz immediately shook his head as he turned to Kanin. “No, fighters alone wouldn’t have the firepower to damage those cruisers, even if their shields were down.”

_“_ What if they were reinforced by corvettes, sir?” D'Amboise suggested. “I have a number of corvettes – about a dozen or so – that I’ve been using mostly as civilian evacuation ship escorts and search and rescue craft as they don’t have the firepower or armor to stand against even the smallest Covenant warships. However, if they were reinforced by Broadsword and Wombat fighters, as well as Longsword gunships… if our fighters could screen them, the corvettes could then act as heavy fire support.”

“Plus, because of their size,” a holographic image of Actium abruptly appeared in front of D'Amboise and he began pointing at it, _“_ they could skim along Actium's atmosphere without too much issue, and then use the debris field of the remains of JTF Byzas as cover to mask their approach from Covenant long-range sensors. With that many ships, surely Commander Luzader's Prowler would get lost in the mix,” he suggested, glancing at Luzader for confirmation, who nodded in agreement. _“_ Once the task force gets close enough, they hit the heavy cruiser with everything they got. And if some of the ‘missiles’ were to ‘accidentally’ get fired at 1-Delta instead… well, Covenant ECM always did cause our missiles to head in random directions.”

_"That could be arranged, sir,"_ Luzader immediately volunteered. _"We are equipped with a number of booster frames that could be modified for a stealth approach. It could also provide useful as a vehicle for extract."_

There was a moment of silence as everyone considered D'Amboise's proposal.

_“Do we even have that many fighters left?”_ Kendrick finally asked.

D'Amboise shrugged.

_“_ We'll have to pull from the surface garrisons,” he admitted. _“_ Probably deplete most – if not all – the fighter squadrons stationed on the planet.”

_“Ah. Then, what are the ground troops going to use for close air support?”_

“Actium Air Force has plenty of atmospheric gunships and attack aircraft, and every UNSC Army division has their own rotary-wing air support,” Spaatz answered. “As long as we can maintain air superiority – or at least, air parity – our ground forces will be fine. However, in order to reach that point, these cruisers **_have_** to go.”

He sighed. “Unfortunately, I don’t see any other way to accomplish that besides relying on, this… Argon Team. Therefore…” Spaatz straightened, causing everyone else in the room to automatically follow suit. “Admiral D'Amboise, make the arrangements. Whatever you need, just get it done. Major Volkov, consult with Kanin to acquire the nukes you need, then prep your ground team.”

“Operation: SCALPEL is a go.”

**XXXXX**

**Medium Actium Orbit**

**Zelda**

_“All pilots: we're approaching the debris field. Maintain your spacing and keep your radar pings to a minimum; remember, we're attempting to mask our approach to the Covenant as long as possible.”_

Zelda grunted to himself as he sat up straighter in his seat and stared out of his cockpit window at the small debris field that laid several kilometers in front of him. When the Covenant ships had settled into position over Actium, in order to protect themselves from random strikes as well as clear their fields of fire, they had taken the ruins of what remained of JTF Byzas and shoved them into a small section of space. And it was that debris field the aircraft of Task Force Whatever-the-fuck-they-were-called-now was now approaching.

“Can’t believe we're actually going through with this stupid operation,” Zelda muttered out loud.

_“What are you worried about, dude? It’s only a tactical air force's worth of fighters and a handful of Navy corvettes against four of the strongest ships the Covenant can build. What's there to worry about?”_ Odessa replied and Zelda snorted in amusement at his sarcastically jaunty tone.

“Don’t forget: four ships that just kicked the ever-living shit out of the Navy, so now it's up to the Air Force to save the day. _Again,_ ” Zelda replied with a sneer, before groaning. “But seriously: who’s fucking brilliant idea was this anyways?”

_“I know, right? I mean, the odds alone of our success are – “_

_“Cut the chatter, gentlemen!”_ Bellum unexpectedly snapped, and Zelda mutely swore as he realized he had accidently transmitted his complaints across the squadron’s dedicated channel, as opposed to his and Odessa’s private one; he must have been more tired than he realized if he hadn’t noticed that minor detail. _“This operation is_ _direct from FLEETCOM HQ: you got a problem with it, bring it up with Admiral Spaatz. In the meantime, shut up and do your fucking jobs, pilots.”_

Zelda couldn’t help but raise an eyebrow at Bellum’s uncharacteristically snappish tone. Despite her call sign, even he had to admit Bellum was usually more calm and collected, if a bit stiffer than he would have liked. And it was because of that unusual anger, Zelda reflexively found himself shutting up and focusing on flying through the debris field.

_“Speaking of doing our jobs…”_ Zelda heard one of the pilots from his squadron – he couldn’t tell who – awkwardly ask _, “Lead,_ _any sign of movement from the Covenant?”_

_“Hard to say: the same debris field that’s preventing the Covenant from picking up on our approach is preventing us from figuring out what they’re up to,”_ Bellum admitted. _“We’re piggybacking off sensors from other assets in the system, but they don’t have the best view. Best they can tell us right now is the cruisers are still holding position, which suggest they haven’t detected us yet.”_

_“Any signs of picket groups or combat air patrols?”_

_“No idea,”_ Bellum tiredly replied. Then, in a small voice that suggested she hadn’t meant to broadcast out loud, she added, _“Really hope not. Don’t think our squadron can handle too many more casualties.”_

Zelda immediately grimaced, as it suddenly occurred to him the source of Bellum's distress. He resisted the urge to look around.

Even though it had scarcely been three hours since the Covenant first emerged in the system, roughly half the squadron had already been shot down. Not all were dead - some having been fortunate enough to not only have ejected in time, but also be recovered by CSAR and were simply awaiting a new Broadsword – but a few pilots, including Betros, had been killed outright. For Zelda, the losses bothered him less than they probably should have as, outside of Odessa and maybe one or two other people, he didn’t really care much for anyone else in the squadron. But for someone like Bellum? Even he had to acknowledge that it had to be rough.

“It’s why I don’t bother making friends with anyone but the best pilots,” Zelda muttered to himself. “Everyone else is a just a target, only they don’t fucking know it.”

_“All squadrons, this is Task Force Leader: we're approaching the edge of the field. All pilots are clear to reactivate their radars. All aircraft, standby for combat; we're going loud from this point forward.”_

Zelda was snapped out of his thoughts at the sound of the task force leader's voice, and Zelda absentmindedly reached out to trigger his radar. It took a few seconds to reactivate, but then –

_“Attention all aircraft, forward elements are picking up enemy warships a thousand klicks just outside the debris fields: two Covenant frigates, designate 1 and 2-Golf! They’re launching fighters! All squadrons, standby to be engaged!”_

Zelda couldn’t help but let it a small sigh at that.

“Here we go again,” he muttered under his breath as he began arming missiles and reached for his throttle.

_“6, what are you doing?”_

Zelda jumped and glanced around: he was the only fighter his squadron moving forward into battle formation. “Er…”

_“6, we're on escort duty, remember?”_ Bellum told him, sounding irritated. _“Get back in formation and stick close to the corvettes_.”

Zelda mutely swore under his breath. He had honestly forgotten what his squadron’s role in this operation was, but aside from that, he _hated_ escort duty.

With an irritated sigh, Zelda grabbed his stick and directed his fighter back towards his group even as Bellum continued to bark out, _“All Omega Flight pilots, stay close to our corvette_. _1st Assault Wing will punch a hole through the enemy fighters for us. Standby.”_

Settling back into formation, Zelda watched as elements of 1st Assault Wing – which including a number of Marine Corps Broadswords escorted by Air Force Wombats and reinforced by Navy Longsword strike fighters – separated from the main group and headed straight for the incoming Covenant Banshees and Seraphs.

_“Sounds like_ somebody _wasn’t paying attention during the briefing,_ ” he heard Odessa taunt.

“Shut the fuck up, Odessa,” Zelda snarled. “You hate escort duty just as much as I do.”

_“True,”_ Odessa allowed. _“But given our casualties, we’re not exactly primed to do anything else.”_

Zelda gave a noncommittal shrug at that, even though he knew Odessa couldn’t see him. It wasn’t his problem other pilots couldn’t keep up.

However, Zelda was saved from having to respond as the lead elements of 1st Assault Wing suddenly came within weapon’s range of the Covenant and immediately open fired. The void of space was abruptly filled with contrails, tracers, and superheated plasma as the Covenant fighters promptly returned fire, and the two groups maintained their formation up until they reached within a hundred kilometers of each other before splitting apart into pairs in preparation for a dogfight.

As the two sides collided, Zelda found himself turning away from the spectacle, already bored: both because _he_ wasn’t participating in the fight so the outcome was less concerning to him than it would have been otherwise, and because at this point in his career, he’d been in enough dogfights – simulated and real – that he knew exactly how this was going to play out. There were so many ways for a fight to go, after all. Instead, Zelda turned his gaze towards the rest of the task force, all of whom were waiting for their opening to brush past the Covenant fighter screen and head towards their actual objective.

Unlike 1st Assault Wing, many of whose squadrons had been drawn from surface garrisons and thus were at full strength, the rest of the task force was made up of fighters and ships that had been pulled from units that had been fighting since WINTER CONTIGENCY had first been declared in the system. As a result, it was an interesting conglomeration of ships: Air Force Longsword gunships whose fleet carriers had been destroyed or damaged leaving them without an assignment, Marine and Navy strike fighters who had turned out to be superfluous for one reason or another, heck there were even a couple of squadrons of Shortsword bombers though whether they were Air Force or Navy ones Zelda couldn’t tell as he was too far away to see their markings. All in all, despite himself, Zelda was kind of curious to see if this mishmash of ships would actually be able to accomplish what High Command wanted them to accomplish: the destruction or damaging of at least one of the Covenant’s capital ships.

_“Lead to all ships.”_

Zelda blinked as a voice over the radio cut through his thoughts.

_“While 1AW is keeping the Covenant’s fighter screen occupied, all remaining ships of the task force will proceed onward to the objective. All ships and fighters: assume attack pattern gamma six, and hit target 1-Echo head on!”_

_“Lead, what about those frigates?”_ Zelda heard someone else ask.

_“Once we get within weapons range, 2nd Assault Wing with break off and keep them pinned down”_

Zelda felt himself grinning as he reached for his throttle.

“Finally,” he muttered to himself, but then paused as a thought occurred to him and he quickly reached for this radio. “Hey, Odessa: which wing are we part of again?”

Odessa let out a tired sigh. _“You really need to start paying attention during our briefings, dude.”_

“Hey, fuck you: I pay attention!” Zelda protested. “I just… um… forgot, is all.”

Zelda could almost hear Odessa rolling his eyes.

_“We’re part of 3rd Assault Wing, dude,”_ he reported as the entire formation began to speed in the direction of the Covenant cruisers. On the very edge of his radar, Zelda could see two large red dots representing the Covenant’s frigates moving to intercept. _“_ Our _job is to ensure these damn corvettes get within firing range of the objective. Everyone else is just window dressing.”_

“So… we’re not attacking those frigates?” Zelda asked, even as a large number of Longsword gunships broke away from the main group and headed towards the Covenant frigates in order to intercept their interception.

_“No, Zelda, stay in formation.”_

“Damn,” Zelda enviously muttered. “How come everyone else gets the fun assignments?”

Odessa didn’t bother responding so Zelda turned his attention towards 2nd Assault Wing which was rapidly speeding towards the enemy frigates. Zelda could see both ships turning towards the incoming fighters, but before the Covenant had a chance to do anything else, muzzle flashes began lighting up the hulls of the Longsword gunships as they sent scores of 110mm and 120mm shells in the direction of the enemy frigates. Almost at once, the Covenant’s point defense turrets began to get to work, but with a much faster initial velocity than missiles, only a few shells were destroyed before they slammed into the Covenant’s energy shields, causing them to visibly ripple.

Realizing the futility in trying to intercepting the fast moving shells, the Covenant hurriedly turned their turrets to the gunships themselves but, unlike Broadswords, Longswords _were_ dedicated space fighters and _were_ equipped with a larger amount of maneuvering thrusters, allowing them to dodge the incoming laser fire with relative ease.

Knowing that just watching the battle alone was only giving him half the picture, Zelda hurriedly switched his radio over to the channel the gunships were using so he could listening in to what the pilots were saying.

_“ – see if you can’t keep 1-Golf occupied!”_ one of the squadron leaders – possibly the wing leader – was ordering. _“Bayonet, focus fire on the frigate’s plasma turrets, Dagger Squadron: kill the frigate’s engines! Balisong, go after their reactor!”_

_“What about those shields!?”_

_“Napoleon Squadron is moving in from below – if those Shortswords are able to drop their entire payload onto the frigate’s shields, it should be enough to knock them out! We just need to keep the Covenant distracted long enough for them not to notice Napoleon!”_

_“Understood, Leader!”_

_“Copy that, Leader!”_

_“Squadrons: attack!”_

Zelda watched as nearly three dozen Longsword gunships swooped in and rapidly fire on the frigate. The Covenant attempted to evade, causing a fair number of shells to miss due to their unguided nature, but with the frigates being roughly fifteen times longer and nearly five times wider than the attacking Longswords, inevitably the vast majority of shells hit _something,_ even if that something wasn’t exactly what their pilots had been aiming for. Still, at this point, any damage done to the Covenant’s shields was better than nothing at all.

The Covenant were of course firing back with everything they had - from pulse lasers to plasma turrets – and it wasn’t long before explosions began ripping through the ranks of the Longswords as the gunships couldn’t hope to evade forever.

_“Taking fire, taking fire!”_

_“Watch out, watch out - !”_

_“Bayonet-9, break left now!”_

_“This is Dagger-2, I’m hit! Breaking off, attempting to stabilize thrusters!”_

_“MAYDAY, MAYDAY, MAYDAY! Bayonet-12 is going down, Bayonet-12 is going down!”_

_“Eject, 12, EJECT!”_

_“Copy – EJECTING!”_

Zelda looked around until he spotted a single Longsword gunship falling out of formation, engine’s having flared out, and a smoking hole in its left wing. Even as he watched, a cloud of white gas suddenly squirted out from the gunship’s cockpit before the canopy was abruptly blown out and an entire escape capsule carrying all four crew members of the gunship was ejected from the doomed ship, seconds before it exploded.

_“Task Force Leader, this is 2nd Assault Wing,”_ Zelda heard someone say over the radio. _“I got birds down, and pilots in the open. Requesting immediate deployment of search and rescue birds to come and pick them up, over.”_

_“Copy that 2AW, deploying CSAR now, break. Task Force Leader to UNSC_ Gladius: _deploy your SKT-13 and extract those downed pilots!”_

_“Understood, Lead, deploying our shuttlecraft now, over.”_

Zelda glanced over to the Navy corvette his squadron was escorting in time to see their dorsal hull hangar doors opening, allowing a single SKT-13 shuttlecraft modified for search and rescue to take off. As a fighter pilot, Zelda cared very little for ground-based, infantry-type units the media always seemed to love as they were nothing more than distractions for the real war that was taking place in the skies and in orbit whenever a Covenant invaded a human colony. However, if there was one group that had Zelda’s absolute respect, it was combat search and rescue crewmembers, Air Force or otherwise.

“Go get ‘em Guardian Angels,” Zelda muttered under his breath as the lightly armed shuttle took off in the direction of the fighting.

His radar abruptly let out a small _ping_ and Zelda glanced back at the battle to see an entire squadron of twelve Shortswords approaching the frigate from its rear, attempting to use the exhaust from the frigate’s engines to hide from the frigate’s own sensors.

_“This is Napoleon Squadron,”_ the squadron leader announced over the radio. _“We’re beginning our attack run now.”_

The Shortswords swooped in. Distracted by the three dozen or so Longswords still swarming them, the Covenant crew of the frigate failed to notice the danger until it was too late.

_“BOMBS AWAY, BOMBS AWAY, BOMBS AWAY!”_

Immediately, nearly a hundred and forty four Mark 210 general purpose bombs - or roughly half of the entire squadron's payload – came shooting out from all of the Shortswords’ bomb bays, the bombs having been ejected when the bomb bay was deliberately and allowed to rapidly decompress by the pilots. Ignoring as the Shortswords quickly pulled away, Zelda instead focused his attention on the bombs that were headed for the frigate. For a moment, the frigate crew failed to react; almost as if the Covenant couldn’t decide whether they should try to shoot the bombs out of the air, or fire at the retreating Shortswords. Whatever the reason though, that delay proved to be costly as, before they could make up their minds, the bombs struck home.

A series of flashes erupted from the top of the shield, which was able to absorb the hits of roughly a third of the bombs before they completely failed, allowing the remaining ordnance to strike directly against the hull. As the bombs weren’t designed to penetrate armor, the damage done to the frigate’s superstructure was mostly superficial, however the fireball from the explosion as well as the shrapnel thrown around was enough to knock several systems offline.

_“Shields are down! Bayonet, Dagger, and Balisong: TAKE OUT THE DAMN SHIP! Napoleon, standby to divert to 1-Golf! All other squadrons, with me!”_

As Zelda and the remaining ships of the task force flew past the fighting, Zelda glanced over his shoulder to see the Covenant frigate slowly beginning to disintegrate as the gunships systematically picked the warship apart with a combination of anti-ship missiles and heavy cannons. Under his visor, Zelda grinned: despite the damage the Covenant was doing to the UNSC forces, by Zelda's count, the UNSC was doing just as much – if not more – damage to the Covenant.

Now if they could only take out those cruisers…

_“3rd Assault Wing, lock all weapons onto target 1-Echo and standby to ripple fire on my mark,”_ someone ordered and Zelda glanced forward at the Covenant heavy cruiser holding position in high orbit several thousand kilometers above him. Even at this distance, he could tell just how massive the ship was, and he found himself involuntary licking his lips out of nervousness.

_“Jesus, look at the size of that thing,”_ Zelda heard 303 mutter.

_“Cut the chatter!”_ Bellum immediately demanded. _“Lead to all pilots: anyone see any movement, any sign of reaction from the Covenant's end?”_

_“Lead, 5: I tally negative movement,”_ Odessa replied. _“Lead, I don’t like this; it’s a little too quiet around here. Even with the frigates, a ship that size should have its own compliment of fighters. And where’s all the goddamn flak?”_

_“I agree, 5,_ ” Bellum replied and Zelda could hear her nodding. _“We should- SHIT!”_

Zelda automatically jammed his yoke to the side as the Covenant cruiser abruptly opened up on the approaching squadrons with everything they had. Pulse laser, plasma bolts, mortars, even a couple of torpedoes were hurtled in their direction, creating a massive firestorm of blue. A few planes were instantly hit, the orange glow from their explosions only adding to the kaleidoscope of colors.

_“All pilots, evade, EVADE!”_ someone screamed as Zelda struggled to not only avoid getting shot down, but also doing his best to avoid colliding into anyone.

_“The fuck do you think we're doing!?”_

_“Guess that answers the question of whether the Covenant had noticed us or not!”_

“Ha! And it’s not even my fault because I didn’t even say anything this time!” Zelda couldn’t help but crow to his flight.

_“Now is really not the time, Zelda!”_

Zelda gave a strained grin as he worked to obtain a lock on one of the plasma turrets on the cruiser's hull. According to his targeting computer, he was technically out of effective weapons range, making this a pointless exercise, but Zelda honestly didn’t care: right now, he needed to feel like he had _some_ chance of fighting back. “Fox three!”

A single anti-ship missile rapidly departed from the bottom of his fighter, but before it had even traveled more than a dozen kilometers, it promptly exploded as it was struck by plasma fire. Still, for that brief second, the Covenant were shooting at his missile and not at him.

_“6, stop wasting ordnance! At this range, anything we shoot, the Covenant will have plenty of time to knock out of the sky!”_

“Yeah, I realize that… now,” Zelda snapped back. “But it’s not like we've got anything else to shoot at!”

_“Leader, this is 13! I’m getting a signal: Banshees! We got incoming Banshees! Target 1-Echo is launching Banshees from their aft hangars!”_

Zelda swore and look around, but he couldn’t spot the incoming bandits. “Where the fuck is aft?”

_“Are you fucking kidding me, Lieutenant? You’ve been in the military for_ how _long and you still don’t know where aft is!?”_

“I don’t fucking speak Squid, Skeeter!” Zelda shot back. “I fucking joined the Air Force, not the fucking Navy!”

_“Hey! Cut it out you two!”_ Bellum roared. _“Aft is the back of the ship, 6!”_

Zelda immediately glanced in the direction of the cruiser's engines, where he finally spotted the incoming.

“Finally,” he cheered and started to turn in their direction, but then hesitated. “Leader, this is 6: are we engaging those fighters?”

_“Yes!”_ Bellum snapped. _“Keep them away from the corvettes! All Omega Flight pilots, standby to break formation and -"_

_“Negative, belay that order!”_ the voice of their wing commander cut through their comms. _“Omega and Flanker Squadrons, stick with the corvettes. Everyone else, engage those incoming Bandits!”_

“…! Are you fucking kidding me!?” Zelda bellowed in outrage as the rest of their wing abruptly turned and headed in the direction of the incoming Banshees, leaving Zelda and a handful of other Broadswords to protect just under a dozen UNSC Navy corvettes. “Odessa! Tell me that ain't some bullshit!”

_“Never mind that!”_ Odessa snapped. _“We should be in range of that cruiser: why the fuck aren't those corvettes engaging?”_

_“All pilots, this is the UNSC_ Gladius: _we're locked on target and we're engaging. Stand clear.”_

Zelda glanced in the direction of the corvette they were protecting in time to see a brilliant flash of light as the ship fired its MAC. In the time it took Zelda to blink, the shell had already crossed the distance between the two sides and Zelda was able to watch with some mild satisfaction as fire shot out from the impact site located right next to the Covenant’s gravity lift, where the shield was weakest.

However, as the fire was rapidly extinguished by the cold vacuum of space, Zelda was highly annoyed to see the damage done by the shell was fairly limited; Navy corvettes may have been armed with magnetic accelerator cannons, but they were the weakest models around, barely stronger than ground and station based Mark 2488 “Onager” cannons.

“Those things are having minimal effect on target!” Zelda crossly pointed out as the _Gladius_ followed up with a volley of Archer missiles. “How the fuck were we expected to ever take out a ship this size by ourselves!?”

_“If we all keep shooting at the same spot, eventually we should be able to punch through that hull and maybe hit something critical!”_

“Oh, brilliant! And I’m sure the Covenant are just going to sit there and let us unload on them like we're at a shooting gallery,” Zelda mocked.

_“6, shut up! All fighters, when those corvettes fire another volley of Archers, fire with them!”_

Zelda glanced outside. The incoming plasma fire had actually died down somewhat, if only because the Covenant were now targeting the corvettes, correctly identifying them as more of a threat than the fighters. And while corvettes were nominally classified as warships, in terms of armor, against concentrated plasma fire they were only marginally better than gunships.

Explosions were rippling across the UNSC _Gladius'_ hull, the corvette's crew doing their best to evade however the incoming fire was just too much. Not too far away, another corvette completely disappeared right in front of Zelda's eyes as it was struck by a plasma torpedo, the massive projectile causing the corvette to not so much as explode but disintegrated. Nearby, a Broadsword from Flanker Squadron was struck by a plasma mortar, which ripped one of its wings off. The Broadsword continued flying, up until it was struck in the left engine by debris from said destroyed wing, causing the engine to explode. With systems rapidly failing, the pilot immediately ejected, however the now out of control fighter ended up spiraling straight into the corvette the pilot had been tasked with protecting. The corvette fortunately survived the impact, but Zelda could see the ship's dorsal hangar bay doors were now jammed shut, preventing her shuttlecraft from deploying.

All the while, the UNSC forces continued to fire at the Covenant, doing their best to do as much damage as they could before they were shot down.

_“_ Gladius _is firing her main battery! Omega, standby to engage!”_

Zelda hastily dropped his crosshairs over the small hole that the corvettes were creating in the cruiser's hull.

_“Fire!_ ”

“Fox three!”

Zelda pulled the trigger, sending a couple of missiles downrange, joining the dozen or so Archer missiles the _Gladius_ also fired. At once, Covenant countermeasures went to work, destroying roughly a third of the incoming with plasma, and sending another third of them flying in all directions - including towards their sister cruisers – as they jammed the guidance seekers on the missiles' warheads. The remaining missiles, however, slammed into the hull, and Zelda looked closely, trying to see what sort of damage had been done and- did the gravity lift just flicker?

He turned his gaze towards the bluish-purple energy beam that had been steadily depositing ground troops and equipment onto the surface this entire time. Sure enough, Zelda could see the beam had faded in color, as if losing power, and the diameter of the beam was no longer as wide, actually exposing some of the equipment that was currently being sent down to the vacuum of space.

“Leader, this is 6: you see that!?” Zelda exclaimed.

_“Yeah, I saw it!”_ Bellum replied. _“Looks like we're doing some damage to the gravity lift! Maybe another volley, we'll be able to knock that entire thing offline!”_

_“Might already be too late,”_ Odessa interjected. _“With as long as that beam had been active, Covenant could have already transported an entire Legion down to the surface.”_

_“Well, let's make sure they don’t send down another one! Omega Squadron, fire on that nav marker! Fox three!”_

Zelda fired again. The time, he kept his focus on the gravity lift, so while he missed the sight of his missiles exploding, he was able to watch as the gravity lift flicker a few more times, before finally blinking out of existence, causing whatever supplies that had been mid-transport to be left floating in the dead of space.

_“Gravity lift is down!”_ Bellum yelled with a hint of satisfaction. _“All Omega Flight pilots, retarget the – “_

Whatever Bellum was about to say next, Zelda never found out because at that exact moment, a message abruptly flashed across his screen. Distracted as he was, it took him a moment to realize what it said:

_“ALL FIGHTERS, BREAK CONTACT AND FALL BACK.”_

“Omega-6 to Omega Leader, be advised I’m getting a retreat order from Command,” Zelda called out. “Can you confirm?”

_“Confirmed! I’m picking it up too! Omega Leader to all craft, break off the attack! I say again, break off the attack!”_

“What the fuck!?” Zelda spat out even as he sharply banked to the left to turn around and start heading back in the direction he had come from. Plasma fire streaked by just above and below his fighter, but fortunately he was able to avoid getting hit.

Looking back though, Zelda could see not everyone was so lucky. He could see one Broadsword getting hit in one of its engines, throwing the vehicle into a spin, one that the pilot wasn’t able to recover from before it was hit several more times, destroying it completely.

Checking his HUD, Zelda could see that only about half of the corvettes and fighters that had started off this attack were still left.

“God dammit,” he snapped to himself. “Why the fuck are we bugging out, just when we started to do some damage to those fucking ships!? What the fuck?”

_“Task Force Leader to Omega Leader: be advised, you've got incoming fighters!”_

Zelda’s head snapped up as his HUD lit up with the signature of several squadrons’ worth of fighters coming straight at them, the Banshees the cruiser had launched earlier that the rest of 3rd Assault Wing was supposed to have been holding back.

_“Shit. All craft, listen up! We’re not out of the woods just yet! Looks like if we want to survive this, we’re going to have to fight our way through! All fighters, accelerate to attack speed! Draw their fire away from the corvettes!”_

Zelda swore again as he started arming weapons. As he worked though, he couldn’t help but wonder what the point of this entire attack was. Aside from the destruction of a couple of warships, some fighters, and that gravity lift, they really didn’t accomplish much and in fact, probably suffered from more losses in terms of overall tonnage than the Covenant did. If Zelda didn’t know better, he would have almost thought this attack was a distraction of some sorts. But the question was:

A distraction for what?

**XXXXX**

**UNSC _Moonlight Sonata_**

**Lieutenant Commander Stephen Luzader**

“Commander? We’re receiving a message.”

Commander Luzader looked up from his display. “Put it on screen,” he ordered.

“It’s a text message only, sir,” his communications officer informed him.

“Put it up anyway.”

“Aye, sir.”

The main screen, which had been displaying the fight that was unfolding outside suddenly flickered, before going black. In its place, a series of words began to scrawl across the screen.

**…**

**INFILTRATION SUCCESSFUL.**

…

That was all that appeared.

Luzader felt his breath catch in his throat, and he did his best to remain calm. Those were the exact words he’d been hoping to see.

Soft footsteps filled his ears and he turned his head slightly to see his Army counterpart, Major Volkov, coming to a parade rest stance beside him. Slowly turning his head towards him, Luzader raised an eyebrow. Without looking away from the words on the screen in front of him, Luzader saw Volkov giving a single nod.

Nodding to himself, Luzader activated his keyboard and began typing out a single, worded response.

**...**

**_EXECUTE._ **

…

* * *

General Notes:

Ships mentioned in this chapter:

**UNSC _Moonlight Sonata:_ **this is not a canon ship. It’s intended to be a _Sahara_ -class heavy Prowler and is named after the piano sonata composed by Ludwig Van Beethoven.

**UNSC _Gladius_ : **this is a canon ship. It is the lead ship of the _Gladius_ -class of heavy corvettes that was first mentioned in _Halo: Warfleet._ The ship actually made a small appearance in chapter 2 of this story, where it was mentioned as being used to evacuate the civilians still in orbit around Tenedos. The ship and the class is named, as per Halopedia: “after the gladius, one Latin word for sword, which served as the primary sword of the Roman army until the Third Century CE.”

Other Notes:

**Covenant Shield Generators:** these are canon Covenant buildings that are from the RTS game: _Halo Wars_ , though I don’t believe they’ve appeared anywhere else.

**222nd Airborne Division:** this is not a canon unit. It’s actually an original creation from my other Halo story, _Missing in Action._

**SPECWARCOM** : this is a canon UNSC command. Standing for **SPEC** ial **WAR** fare **COM** mand, it falls under the authority of Unified Ground Command. As the name implies, it oversees special operation units that don’t fall under the authority of Naval Special Warfare Command. So, for example, NOBLE Team was under SPECWARCOM's authority whereas Blue Team was not.

(In canon, this command is also known as “Unified Special Warfare Command,” or “USW" for short.)

**ASOC** : as mentioned in the chapter, this stands for **A** rmy **S** pecial **O** perations **C** ommand. Unlike the example above, this is not a canon command and is actually the name for the modern day United States Army command in charge of all Army special operational units (which includes: the Army Special Forces, 75th Ranger Regiment, and 160th Special Operations Aviation Regiment.) In the Halo Universe, I imagine it would be the UNSC Army counterpart to the Navy's Naval Special Warfare Command.

**Major Den Volkov:** this is an original character that first appeared in my other Halo story, _Missing in Action._ In that story, he was the temporary commanding officer of the main characters.

**Longsword:** in canon, Longswords are officially known as “strike fighters” however readers may have noticed I’ve alternatively been calling them “gunships.” That because in canon, there are at least two variants of the Longsword: the C709 and the C712 (alternatively, the SS-110.)

The C709 variant is the larger of the two and is the one we see in almost all the official Halo media. It’s armed with a single 110mm rotary cannon and dual 120mm ventral cannons (as well as hardware for missiles and mines.) Because of their massive firepower and four man crew, they always struck me as more akin to gunships (like the AC-130) as opposed to traditional fighters, so that's what I decided to go with. (UNSC Air Force would use them as escort aircraft for their carriers and transports.)

In contrast, the C712/SS-110 variant, is the much smaller version of the Longsword, and are only armed with missiles and 50mm coilguns. Because of their lesser firepower as well as two man crew, I felt these better fit the traditional fighter role. (UNSC Navy would use them as their fighters in lieu of Broadswords, whereas the UNSCAF would use them in a strike fighter role.)

(So, to use a real-world analogy: Broadswords are like F-16s, C712 Longswords are your F/A-18s or F-15E Strike Eagles while C709s don’t really have a real world equivalent, but they would sort of be like if the B-1 bomber had ever been made into a gunship.)

*Note: supposedly there’s a third variant of the Longsword, the C708, but Halopedia has next to no information regarding them, so I’m not sure how they differ from the other two.

**Fighter Pilots:** I don’t know how true this is, but I’ve read assertions that during World War II, there really wasn’t an “average pilot.” That, generally speaking, you were either an ace, or a target.

I’m not sure how true this is, but I thought it was interesting enough to bring up, and the reason why I had Zelda assert that “Everyone else is a just a target, only they don’t fucking know it” near the beginning of his section.

**Guardian Angels:** in the USAF, this is actually a specific unit. As per the Air Force website, Guardian Angel is a unit comprised of Combat Rescue Officers, Pararescuemen (enlisted combat rescue airmen,) SERE specialist (Survival, Evasion, Resistance, and Escape,) and trained support personnel dedicated to personnel recovery.

In this chapter, I’m treating it more of a generic nickname for any combat search and rescue team, whether it be Air Force, Navy, or Marine Corps in origin


	12. In the Lion's Den

**Covenant Battlecruiser “1-Delta”  
May 6, 2545  
1130**

**Argon Team**

**_EXECUTE_ ** _._

The holographic word flashed across her HUD for about half a second before disappearing just as quickly as it had appeared, but Petty Officer Second Class Maria-062 barely gave it any heed as she was more concerned about the heavy footsteps approaching her team's position. Covenant patrol. Four Grunts and an Elite, probably a Minor. Based on how loudly the Grunts were squabbling, it was most likely a random patrol, but one that still needed to be dealt with quickly, and quietly.

Maria glanced back at her team stacked up behind her and hurriedly, using hand signals only, informed them of her plan. Two green lights in her visor lit up, indicating her team had acknowledged and received, and Maria turned back, her muscles tense and ready for action. She would be the one to open the action and for maximum surprise, timing would be key. She waited. And listened.

_Thump. **Thump. THUMP.**_

The sound of the Elite’s footsteps grew louder and louder as he got closer to their position. Maria held her breath.

Now.

Without a moment of hesitation, she launched herself around the corner and emerged right in front of an Elite Minor who was now an arm’s length away. Before the astonished creature could react, Maria lashed out, driving her fist right into his throat.

Her fist slammed into his personal shield, causing them flare and absorbing much of the damage, but the blow was still enough to send the Elite staggering. As he stumbled back, reflexively gripping his neck, he tried to draw his plasma rifle from his right thigh, but Maria deftly blocked it with her hand then followed up with a fierce elbow strike to the Elite's head.

His weakened shields instantly gave way and the Elite took the full force of the impact to the side of his helmet, which crumbled under the vicious blow. His head snapped to the side and Maria quickly surged forward, firmly grabbing his head with both hands and yanking him down while at the same time, bringing her right knee straight up.

There was a loud crack as the Elite’s face met her knee and, upon feeling the Elite go limp, she roughly threw him to the ground. By the time he hit the floor, she had already drawn her suppressed pistol and proceeded to calmly shoot him once in the back of the head.

Ignoring the purple blood that was beginning to pool on the deck, Maria whirled around with her sidearm at the ready, finger hovering near the trigger, but then paused when she noticed her team had already dealt with the rest of the Covenant patrol. Four Grunts laid prone on the ground. Standing over them was the rest of her team, consisting of Spartans Kai A-019 and Zalmir B-170.

Lowering her sidearm, Maria and her team stood there, still as a statue, waiting to see if their little incursion had been detected, but when no alarms started sounding and no guards manifested, they allowed themselves to relax.

Gesturing for her team to move out of the way, Maria proceeded to methodically plant a single round into the backs of all the Grunts’ heads, to make sure they really were dead. It didn’t make for the cleanest of stealth missions, leaving all sorts of bodies behind, but their presence aboard this vessel wouldn’t remain undetected for long and Maria would rather not leave any patrols that could potentially ambush them from behind.

Quickly swapping the partially used magazine from her pistol and replacing it with a fresh one, Maria holstered her weapon before silently dropping down to one knee and carefully extracting a plasma pistol from one of the dead Grunts. She stuck the confiscated weapon to the magnetic strip on her other thigh in a position where she could easily and rapidly pull it out. With only three of them on a ship of this magnitude, Maria knew she was going to need a weapon that could quickly disable the shields of any Elites she came across.

Task complete, Maria stood back up and quickly ducked back around the corner to retrieve the package. Consisting of a single Fury tactical nuclear weapon, the nuke would be what her team would use to destroy this ship, so ensuring the package survived unharmed was crucial. Even more so than, dare she say it, the lives of her team.

Strapping the warhead to her back next to her assault rifle and drop shield and securing it, Maria glanced at her team. Being the highly trained professionals that they were, neither of them were looking at her but were instead, watching both ends of the corridor, scanning for threats. Despite their seemingly lack of attention, Maria knew they would still be listening.

"We move," she silently informed them over their designated TEAMCOM channel. "We need to isolate this ship from the rest of this fleet, and we'll accomplish that by destroying their communications array. Kai, you have point. 170, cover our six.”

Two green acknowledgement lights lit up on her HUD and Maria glanced over her shoulder to see B-170 lifting his SAW ever so slightly, the only hint of his nervousness.

Good. Apprehension was to be expected, even for a Spartan, from someone who was entering a real life combat situation for the first time, but it looked like 170 had a lock on things. Maria nodded in approval before refocusing. Hefting her own weapon, she gestured with her hand.

“Move out.”

**XXXXX**

**UNSC _Moonlight Sonata_**

**Lieutenant Commander Luzader**

_“…The timing of our attack is absolutely critical,”_ Admiral Spaatz was saying over the radio. _“Too early, and the Covenant will be able to engage us with impunity. Too late, and the Covenant will have ample time to reactive their shields. While we are of course able to penetrate the Covenant’s regular shields, the time it would take to do so will result in higher casualties among the fleet, casualties I’d rather avoid.”_

Luzader watched as Volkov slowly nod his head. “Of course, sir. Understood.”

_“Which is why I need to know the exact moment your team has extracted from the target vessel, is onboard your ship, and en route to the minimal safe distance from the explosion,”_ Spaatz continued as if Volkov hadn’t said a word. _“I trust you’re monitoring your team’s progress?”_

Volkov subtly glanced in Luzader’s direction, who in turn glanced in his communication’s officer’s direction, who nodded. “Naturally, sir. Though, I should warn you, sir, at this current moment, due to my team’s need to maintain stealth, we are radio silent with them. Though that will lift the moment Target 1-Delta has been isolated from the rest of the fleet.”

Spaatz grunted in acknowledgement. _“Fine. That’s fine. Inform me the moment you’re able to reestablish contact.”_

“Of course, sir.”

Volkov moved to end the video call, but paused when Spaatz held up his hand. “Was there something else, sir?”

_“Yes. As soon as your team has extracted, and you’re free of the blast zone, report directly back to me. No one else. If this operation is successful, I have no doubt there will be other assignments that will require your team’s assistance.”_

Luzader could see Volkov frowning ever so slightly. “Sir, with all due respect, that’s not exactly our purposes for being…” Volkov began.

_“Major, your purpose is to win this war, is it not?”_

Volkov stiffened. “Yes, sir.”

_“Well, just in case you haven’t noticed, the war is here, in this system, right now. And I intend to win, using whatever assets I have available to me. You, Lieutenant Commander Luzader, his ship, your team, and whatever support personnel you have, have all become part of those assets. And I will use you as_ **I** _see fit. So, whatever your original purpose for being in this system was, is now irrelevant. You’re under_ **my** _command. Is that clear, Major?”_

Volkov hesitated. “Yes, sir,” he finally said. “However, I will have to inform my commanders. And they’ll undoubtedly be in contact with _you,_ sir.”

_“Oh trust me, Major, they’ll be hearing from me first,”_ Spaatz dryly replied. _“Spaatz, out.”_

Spaatz’s image abruptly disappeared from Luzader’s bridge, allowing him to finally relax.

“Man,” Luzader commented as he strapped himself back into his command chair. “Spaatz _really_ doesn’t like special operations, doesn’t he?”

“Well, you know just as well as I do, some staff officers think that just because they wear a couple of stars on their lapels, they’re entitled to know about every single detail about every single operation in existence, and get pissed off when they realize they don’t have as much authority as they think they do,” Volkov replied with a grunt as he stashed the communications equipment away and extended the extra seat. “Command will set him straight though. In the meantime, where are we with Argon Team?”

“Last communique we had with them, Spartan-062 indicated they had successfully eliminated a Covenant patrol without detection, and were headed directly for the ship’s communications relay,” Luzader reported. He handed Volkov a data pad containing the transcript of all the radio transmissions they had with Argon Team. There wasn’t much on it; Luzader had noticed even under the best of times, Spartans weren’t exactly the most sociable types but on a mission? Luzader had worked with some computers that were more talkative than them.

“Provided they don’t run into any more patrols, I predict we should be hearing from them again in the next several minutes or so,” Luzader continued.

Volkov grunted in agreement as he quickly read through the data pad. It took him a few moments to realize Luzader was still staring at him with an expectant look on his face. “What.”

“You think they can pull this off?” Luzader couldn’t help but ask. “This operation? Three operatives versus an entire ship? Almost an impossible mission, you think.”

Volkov snorted. “They’re Spartans. To them, there’s no such thing as an ‘impossible’ mission, only a mission with slightly more challenging obstacles.”

“I realize that. And if we were talking about a team of II’s, I would have agreed wholeheartedly. But these are III’s we’re talking about. And one of them was assigned to the team a couple of days ago. I mean, part of the reason why we’re even in this system right now was for them to undergo integration training. That’s going to be a huge obstacle for them, overcoming the fact they’ve never worked together before in the past.”

“They are Spartans,” Volkov repeated. “Flexibility is their strong suite. Plus, Spartan-062 is in change. Maria has been fighting in this war longer than either you or I have. She knows what she’s doing, and she’ll know how to make everyone else fall in line.”

“Yes, but Spartan-062 is not exactly known for her leadership ability,” Luzader pressed. “She’s not exactly Spartan-104. Or Spartan-051. Or, hell, 117.”

Volkov looked up from the data pad with a curious expression on his face. “You seem to know a _lot_ about the Spartan program. More than what a mere captain of a Prowler _should_ know,” he said, the warning clear and evident in his voice.

Luzader waved his hands dismissively. “I work for a military intelligence agency,” he pointed out. “Gathering intelligence and rooting out secrets is kind of what we do for a living. I’d honestly be more concerned if I encountered a captain who _didn’t_ know these things. Shows he’s not paying attention.”

Luzader watched as Volkov raised an eyebrow, but gave no other indication of what he was thinking.

“At any case,” he suddenly said. “I don’t think you should worry about what our Spartans are doing Commander. If anything, I’d worry for the Covenant.”

“Because they have no idea what’s coming.”

**XXX**

**Covenant Battlecruiser _Hammer of Justice_**

**Zek**

Kig-Yar Minor Zek's head snapped up as a warning suddenly flashed across his screen. "What was that?"

His fellow security technician, another Kig-Yar by the name of Rezan, barely looked up.

"It’s just bottarga with a bit of garum spread on top," he distractedly replied. "Are you telling me you Ruuhtians don't have that?"

Zek shot Rezan a confused look. "What?"

Rezan lifted a small can of what looked and smelled like some sort of heavily fermented meat. "Bottarga," Rezan replied, pointing at the can. "You've never had it before?"

"What? No! I mean, I have but... that's not what I'm taking about!" Zek snapped somewhat impatiently. "That alert message. Did you see that?"

"No," Rezan said around a mouthful of food. "What'd it say?"

"'External communications lost,'" Zek read out loud.

"What? That's not possible," Rezan exclaimed, causing speckles of food to spray out of his mouth and coat his display.

Zek momentarily frowned in disgust. He distracted himself by tapping a few buttons on his display.

"Are you sure it's not a computer error?" he heard Rezan asking from over his shoulder.

"That's what I'm looking for now," Zek noted as he tapped a couple of buttons and waited. "System is not registering anything. Is that even possible? Shouldn't I be getting at least an error message?"

"I don't know," Rezan admitted. "Maybe you should ask one of the Unggoy for assistance. Communications is, after all, their responsibility."

Zek didn't bother dignifying that suggestion with a response. He'd sooner be branded a heretic than ask an _Unggoy_ for aid.

He tapped a few more buttons to see if anything else showed up, but nothing happened. After a few moments of fruitless activity, he sat back in his chair and drummed his fingers against his station, thinking.

Coming to a decision, he grabbed his radio.

"What are you doing?" Rezan asked.

"I'm reporting this," Zek grimly reported.

Rezan instantly paled.

"Oh no," Zek heard him say as he hastily began cleaning off his station. Zek couldn't blame him: their commanding Sangheili could be rather terrifying.

Unfortunately, due to the way Sangheili culture worked, any warrior who was not involved in frontline combat against the heretics was considered of lesser status. However, because of the way the Covenant military structure worked, lesser races such as the Kig-Yar and Unggoy weren't allowed to operate such advanced equipment without a Sangheili officer. As such, most Sangheili assigned to a rear echelon support position saw it as punishment for unspecified crimes, and Zek's supervisor, a Sangheili Major by the name of Bal'Kamet, was no exception. With a temper hotter than Eayn's sun, Kamet did everything in his power to make sure his underlings were as miserable as he was. As a result, Zek did his best to avoid the creature but in this situation, it was unavoidable: the punishment for his failure to report this incident would be much more severe.

As Zek waited for the line to connect, he took a moment to compose himself.

_"What."_

Kamet's blunt voice instantly came through the airwaves and Zek couldn't help but wince at the shear heat in Kamet's voice already, despite not having done anything.

Zek did his best to keep calm and tone respectful as he said, "Sire Kamet? This is Security Station Salvation: we have a situation that requires your immediate attention."

_"I will be right there,"_ Kamet grumbled after a long pause and just as Zek was about to put down the radio he heard Kamet add, _"And Kig-Yar? This had **better** be good."_

The line went dead and Zek nervously swallowed. He exchanged an apprehensive look with Rezan as the sound of heavy footsteps approached them, with both of them snapping to attention as soon as Kamet rounded the corner.

"What do you **_want_**!?" Kamet demanded.

"Sire, I regret to inform you all external communications has been lost. We no longer have any contact with the rest of the fleet," Zek reported, trying his best to remain calm. He never enjoyed being the bearer of bad news.

Unfortunately, Zek wasn't entirely successful in that regard, and rather than the calm, collected voice he'd been hoping to achieve, what came out instead was a long jumble of words.

It took a moment for Kamet to comprehend what he was being told, but when he did, Zek could see his eyes narrowing behind his helmet, a classic sign of aggravation, and Zek mentally braced himself.

"That... is impossible," Kamet growled. "What did **_you_** incompetent Kig-Yar do!?"

"Nothing! We did nothing!" Rezan immediately and defensively protested.

Zek inwardly cringed. Now that was the wrong thing to say.

Sure enough, Zek could see Rezan shrinking as Kamet immediately turned his ire towards him.

"This ship," Kamet menacingly growled, "was built using the Ancestor's designs and blessed by the Hierarchs themselves. Are you suggesting it would suddenly and abruptly cease to function!?"

Zek could see Rezan's throat bobbing as he nervously swallowed.

"N... no sire!" Rezan managed to stammer.

"Then **_clearly_** this is the result of something **_you_** fools did! Pull up the security feeds! We shall see what has happened!"

It took Zek a few moments to realize Kamet was addressing him, and he hastily moved to obey.

Tapping a buttons, a holographic screen appeared, depicting the corridor just outside of the communications array. The entire corridor was filled with light gray smoke that seemed to waft from the area of the array itself, which caused Zek to frown. Had there been a fire? But how? Everything in that room was fireproof.

"What is the meaning of this!?" Kamet abruptly barked, causing Zek to jump.

Zek started to turn towards Kamet, but before he could say anything, movement on the screen caught his attention. The smoke was shifting and revealing -

Bulky green armor. An alien figure shaped like a human, but with the build and physique of a Sangheili. Carrying enough firepower to put most Mgalekgolo to shame. And finally, wearing, a dome-like helmet with a solid gold visor.

Zek could feel the saliva in his mouth dry up as he realized exactly what he was looking at.

"Demon..." he heard Rezan whisper in fearful, but almost reverent voice, and Zek couldn't blame him.

He had heard the stories. Everyone had. Of the gold faces, green skinned Demons that emerged from the dark void to take what they wanted, and not even the Covenant Empire's best warriors could stop them.

"Mothers save us," Rezan whispered again and through the corner of his eye, Zek could see Rezan making a number of hand gestures which he recognized as old Kig-Yar hand symbols for warding off evil spirits.

For his part, all Zek could do was simply sit there, frozen with fear at what he was seeing.

They watched as the Demon stalk through the corridor, like a jörmungandr hunting its prey. It moved silently and swiftly down the corridor before, without warning, turned and looked directly at the camera. Zek immediately and reflexively dove for cover, only to suddenly remember it was impossible for the Demon to have seen him through the screen.

Feeling a bit foolish, Zek picked himself off the deck in time to see the Demon pointing a massive handgun at the camera before microseconds later, the screen went dark.

Numb with shock and fear at what he just seen, Zek took a moment to compose himself before slowly turning around to see how Kamet was reacting.

At first, Kamet was merely standing there, unmoving and as still as a statue. But just as Zek was about to call out his name, he noticed an odd expression creeping across Kamet's face, and it took Zek a couple of seconds to realize what it was: sheer joy. Somehow, that expression alone caused a deeper sense of dread to pass through Zek than if Kamet had been merely enraged.

"We have been boarded," Zek heard Kamet mutter. Before he could ask him to elaborate, Kamet suddenly screamed, "WE HAVE BEEN BOARDED!!!"

Zek exchanged a nervous look with Rezan at the sound of pure excitement in Kamet's voice. Before he could doing anything, Kamet abruptly slammed his palm onto the desk, causing Zek to jump in fright.

"Kig-Yar, sound the alarm and alert all Security Lances!" Kamet barked and Zek hastily moved to obey. "Have all warriors assemble on me; I shall deal with this incursion myself!"

**_"WE HAVE BEEN BOARDED!"_ **

**XXX**

Maria holstered her pistol and glanced at the spot where the security camera had been standing. That was sloppy: she should have spotted and disabled that camera long before it had been able to spot her. She could only hope that no one had been monitoring the screens.

**_EEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!_ **

The inhuman screeching of an alarm quickly put that hope to bed and Maria mentally sighed. Damn. Detection had been inevitable, especially after they had just destroyed the communications array, but she'd hoping to put it off just a bit longer. Oh well.

She turned to her team to gesture at them, but before anything could happen, a nearby door slide open, and a Jackal stepped into the corridor.

"Contact!" Maria yelled in warning, her sidearm instantly appearing in her hands

_PFT_.

The Jackal's head snapped back, a neat hole right between his eyes but there was already another Jackal coming up behind the first one. The new Jackal reflexively raised his hand to cover his face as blood from the first Jackal splattered all over the place and Maria quickly lowered her pistol a hair and fired two rapid shots into the Jackal's chest. As the Jackal lowered his arms in surprise, Maria put a third round through his left eye while at the same time, drawing one of the plasma grenades from her back.

Activating it, she quickly tossed it through the doorway the two Jackals had emerged from and hastily shot the door controls, causing it to slam shut. She could hear the grenade exploding but at the same time, she also heard the _hiss_ of another door opening up directly behind her and whirled around in time to grab the plasma rifle that was pointed at her head with her free hand and shove it to the side, causing the initial burst to miss.

She immediately retaliated, jamming her pistol into the shooter's stomach, an Elite Minor, and emptied the rest of the magazine, hearing the Elite grunt in pain as his shields were instantly disabled and his lower torso was perforated with bullets, but Elite's didn't die that easily. As the slide on Maria's pistol locked back, the Elite threw a wild left hook with his free hand at her head, one that she was able to quickly duck under, but in doing so, was forced to release her hold on the Elite's rifle.

The Elite immediately kicked at her, pushing her back a little while at the same time, backpedaled, trying to gain some room so he could bring his rifle to bear, but he could only take a couple of steps before running into the corridor wall. In the split second he was distracted, Maria released her pistol - letting it drop to the ground with a clatter - while at the same time, grabbing her combat knife from her belt with her now free hand. Surging forward, she jammed the blade into the Elite's wrist, severing the tendons leading to the hand holding onto the rifle and causing the weapon to slip out from the Elite's hands. As the rifle fell to the ground, Maria kicked it in midair with enough force the entire thing shattered the moment it hit the bulkhead wall.

Simultaneously, Maria drove her knife forward towards the Elite, right down his forearm, the titanium carbide coated blade easily cutting through skin and flesh like it was butter, splitting the Elite's arm open like a banana and spilling blood and gore all over the place. Maria could hear the Elite screaming in pain but she ignored him as she focused on driving the blade up the Elite's entire arm, only being forced to stop when she reached the much thicker and denser part of the Elite's bicep muscle which her blade had a bit more trouble cutting through.

Undeterred, Maria ripped the knife out, slashing the Elite across his throat with the same motion. A purple line appeared across the Elite's neck which split apart, causing blood to begin _gushing_ out from the wound.

A choking noise filled the air as the Elite reached for a plasma grenade on his belt with its good hand, so Maria hit him once more in the face for good measure, driving her elbow up and into the Elite's chin with enough force she could hear the Elite's skin tearing as his head snapped back. The Elite hit the wall and collapsed to the ground in a boneless heap, sitting in a pool of his own blood, twitching.

With the sound of fighting filling her ears, Maria had no time to rest. She sheathed her knife and threw herself forward, snagging her sidearm off the ground as she rolled passed and quickly reloaded. Coming out of her roll ready to fight once more, she glance around the corridor and immediately took stock: her entire team was currently engaged in their own hand to hand battles, which explained why none of them has been in a position to assist her. Kai was currently fighting against another Elite and appeared to be holding his own but Zalmir on the other hand was fighting against two Elites and appeared to be struggling. As she watched, Zalmir ducked under a vicious jab from one of the Elites, only to run right into the other Elite, who slammed his knee into Zalmir's face and sent him staggering backwards, but fortunately he was able to maintain his footing.

Upon seeing that, Maria instantly brought her pistol to bear. The shot was going to be difficult: Zalmir and the Elites were very close to each other and all parties were moving very quickly. Nevertheless, Maria took a deep breath and released it slowly, waiting for her opportunity.

There. Zalmir had just dodged a blow, leaving one of the Elite's heads exposed for a bare moment. Maria didn't hesitate.

_PFT PFT._

She fired in rapid succession, planting a hammered pair into the Elite's face, causing him to rear back in surprise at the unexpected shots, temporarily lowering his guard. Zalmir immediately punched him in the face. Stunned, the Elite nevertheless attempted to hit back, but his punch was weak and highly telegraphed, allowing Zalmir to see it coming from a lightyear away.

Sidestepping the blow, Zalmir grabbed a hold of the Elite's outstretched arm and yanked the creature towards himself. As the off-balanced Elite stumbled forward, Zalmir twisted around and shoved the Elite right into the other one. The other Elite was just barely able to dodge his friend, but the half second delay he took to recover was just enough time for Zalmir to whip out his SAW and start shooting.

Maria wasn't able to see the results though because at that moment, her pistol was kicked right out from her hands by a Skirmisher that appeared out of nowhere. Rather than try to resist, Maria decided to follow through with the blow and spun around, whipping out her captured plasma pistol from her thigh as she did.

Coming out of the spin, Maria came face to face with another Skirmisher that was charging straight at her with some sort of energy cutlass. Maria didn't hesitate.

_FWOOZFWOOZFWOOZ!_

Two bolts to the chest and one bolt to the head put that Skirmisher down for good. She started to turn towards the initial Skirmisher, but a glint of something sharp caught her eye and she instinctively ducked as she turned. Moments later, an energy cutlass passed right through the space her head had just been occupying.

Seeing the Skirmisher's feet planted on the ground right in front of her, Maria dropped down even further and swung her arm as she continued her turn. The Skirmisher pitched forward with a look of surprise on his face as his legs were swept out from underneath him, but somehow he was able to throw himself forward into a somersault. Landing on his feet about a meter away, the Skirmisher whirled around to face Maria once more, only to be confronted with a wall of green as Maria full on bull-rushed him, knocking him off his feet once more.

Wrapping her arms around the Skirmisher's waist, Maria full-bodily lifted him up and toppled over backwards, twisting around in mid-air and driving the Skirmisher straight into the ground.

There was a loud _crack_ as all two thousand-ish kilograms of Maria's weight landed right on top of the Skirmisher, leaving him sprawled out on the ground at an odd angle. He didn't stir as Maria hauled herself up to her feet, but just in case _that_ wasn't enough to kill him, Maria went ahead and shot him once in the head with her plasma pistol.

Snapping her weapon up, she glanced around to see if her team needed her help, but it was clear they had things under control. As she watched, Kai managed to plant the barrel of his assault shotgun under the chin of the Elite he was fighting against and fired once, blowing the Elite's head clean off. Concurrently, Zalmir was bringing the buttstock of his SAW down hard against the head of his own Elite, caving the creature's skull right in and leaving another rapidly cooling body on the floor. But the Covenant weren't done just yet. The thunderous sound of charging footsteps filled Maria's ears and she turned around to see another Lance of Covenant soldiers rounding the bend from down the corridor.

Maria silently cursed. They were taking too much time. The longer they wasted here, fighting these guys, the longer the Covenant would have to fortify their defenses. They had to move. Now.

But not before they dealt with these guys...

"COVER UP!" Maria barked, ripping her assault rifle off her back. Flicking the safety off and shouldering her rifle at the same time...

_BANGBANGBANG!_

The sound of gunfire flooded the corridor as all three Spartans simply opened up with whatever weapons they had at hand. Holes were punched into the bulkheads and brass littered the ground as red hot bullets tore into the advancing Covenant.

Maria fired as rapidly as she could in semi-auto. Out of all the Spartan-IIs and even some of the III's, Maria was admittedly one of the worst shots with a rifle. But against a target less than twenty meters away down a wide open and straight corridor, Maria was essentially Linda at this point.

Covenant soldiers toppled to the floor with single holes drilled into their heads. Elite shields were disabled and their operators' killed before they could do anything. The entire Lance of soldiers was completely decimated before the first brass casing even had a chance to hit the ground.

The gunfire petered off as the last Elite toppled to the ground. Without breaking stride, Maria swapped out her magazine while checking over the corridor for more targets. The still bodies of nearly thirty Covenant soldiers littered the ground. A disappointing start, but nothing could be done about that.

"Argon Team, sound off," Maria ordered as she bent over and retrieved her discarded weapons.

Two green lights on her visor immediately lit up, indicating no one had gotten injured. In the distance, Maria could hear the sound of more footsteps and shouting as more Covenant headed in their direction. It was time to leave.

"To the objective area," Maria barked without preamble. "Double time it. Move."

They took off running.

**XXX**

Zek couldn't help but tremble as the Demons disappeared from his screen. He had managed to locate a working camera that had an angle on the corridor where the Demons had been detected, and had turned it in time to see the entirety of two separate security Lance's get annihilated.

Thirty Covenant warriors. Six Sangheili, eight T'vaoans, four Ruuhtians, and twelve Unggoy. All slaughtered to the last being in less than seven minutes. All before they had been able to put up more than a token resistance. The sight had been both absolutely terrifying and heartbreaking, especially since Zek was pretty sure he knew at least one of the Ruuhtians that had been killed.

No, not killed. Slaughtered. Killed implied they had had a chance.

_"Security Station Salvation, come in."_

Kamet's deep voice sounded over the radio and Zek quickly reached out and grabbed the mic.

"This is Salvation, go ahead," Zek replied.

_"Where are the Demons now?"_

Zek hastily checked his security feeds. "Deck Eith Mor. They appear to be heading for the bridge."

_"Lock down the blast doors. Slow the Demons down until I can reach them."_

Zek glanced at Rezan who immediately went to work and on screen, Zek could see a number of blast doors slamming shut.

_"Have all Security Lances prepare defenses outside of the bridge, engineering, as well as all hangars,"_ Kamet continued. _"They are to hold to the last. The Demons are to not be allowed to escape."_

"As you will, sire," Zek automatically replied. "In the meantime, should I have some Lances join you in your pursuit?"

_"No."_

Zek paused. He honestly wasn't expecting that answer. "Sire?"

_"Do not send me reinforcements,_ " Kamet insisted, _"for I shall need none. I will defeat the Demons. I will make the Demons regret ever boarding a ship guarded by Bal'Kamet. And no one will dare take that glory from me!"_

Zek exchanged a look with Rezan. That sounded like an absolutely terrible idea. Unfortunately, Zek knew Kamet would not be interested in such opinions and as such, all Zek could do obey.

"Yes, sire," Zek finally said with a bit of reluctance. "Deploying Security Lances."

_"Good,"_ Kamet grunted. _"Do not fail me Kig-Yar."_

The line went dead.

Sharing one last glance of concern with Rezan, Zek switched the channels on his radio and pushed the talk button.

"All Security Lances... "

**XXX**

"...fire in the hole."

The entire corridor shook as Maria thumbed the igniter, sending shards of metal scattering across the floor. Without bothering to wait for the smoke to clear, she whirled around the corner, rifle at the ready. She was immediately confronted with two Grunts struggled to climb to their feet on the other side of the blast door. Two trigger pulls later, and Maria was left trying to figure out the best way to fit through the blast hole.

The breaching charge had blown a nice square shaped hole though the blast door, but one that was only about thirty centimeters by thirty centimeters wide. Nowhere near big enough for her, even if she _wasn’t_ wearing her armor. They were going to have to pry the doors open.

"Kai," she called out and out of the corner of her eye, she noticed Kai snapped to attention. "Get the door open."

Kai gave a single nod. Handing his shotgun over to Zalmir, he walked over to the door and braced himself. Grabbing a hold one of side of the hole and, while Maria and Zalmir covered him, he began forcing open the damaged door.

As she watched, Maria took a moment to consider their situation. This was the third blast door they had come across. Clearly the Covenant were doing their best to slow the Spartans down. And while the doors themselves weren't that much of an issue (Argon Team had packed enough explosives to go through all of them, having anticipated this very event,) the time it took to force their way through was of some concern to Maria. So far her team had managed to fend off every Covenant patrol they had come across without much issue, but if the Covenant were to attack in force, well, even Spartans could be taken down with enough numbers and firepower.

The loud screeching of protesting metal filled the air and Maria glanced over her shoulder to see Kai ripping the door open, leaving a gap that was just barely wide enough for them to slip through. Without saying a word, Maria slipped through the gap, with Zalmir coming up close behind her and Kai following up the rear.

The moment Kai released the door though, it released another loud shriek as it slammed shut.

Well. That was the first door to do that and that could potentially prove a problem when they needed to extract.

Unfortunately, there wasn't going to _be_ an extraction unless they could reach their objective first. And to do that, they had to fight through what was essentially the entire ship.

The problem was, due to the need for rapid speed and high mobility, Argon Team needed a nuclear weapon that was easily transported and wouldn't unduly hinder their fighting ability. The Fury tactical nuclear weapon they were carrying fulfilled all of those requirements, but because of its small size, it had a rather lackluster explosive yield. As such, while Maria would have loved to simply place the bomb in any random place aboard this ship and quickly evacuate, there was genuine concern the bomb alone wouldn't be enough to destroy a ship of this magnitude. Which is why they needed to place it around something capable of creating secondary explosions like, say, the ship's main reactor.

Of course, _locating_ the reactor was a chore all in itself. Despite this many years into the war, UNSC intelligence into the internal arrangement of Covenant warships was somewhat lacking. As was to be expected, given the UNSC's inability to board an enemy ship, much less capture one intact for study.

Because of that, trying to navigate their way around the ship without any proper maps or signage was difficult. Case in point, this corridor.

Maria slowed her stride just a bit as she regarded the hall in front of her. They were reaching a four way intersection, and she wasn't sure which way she was supposed to turn. She had been navigating through the ship via an energy scanner built into her HUD, heading in the direction of where she was detecting the most energy, however at the moment she was picking up signatures from all directions. As a result, she wasn't sure which corridor she should head down and on a ship of this size, the last thing she wanted to do was accidently take the wrong turn.

Unfortunately there were no signs, or at least none that she could see, so at the moment she was stuck. Yet for some reason, something was telling her the best way to turn was right. So rather than fight the feeling, as soon as she reached the intersection, Maria took that right turn -

\- and nearly walked right into an Elite Minor who was waiting there with his plasma rifle drawn and in a low ready position. Damn creature must have been waiting in ambush because Maria had _not_ picked him off on her motion detector!

"RAHH!" the Elite bellowed as he quickly reacted, snapping his rifle up but unfortunately for him, the UNSC had yet to discover a single biological creature that had a faster reaction time than a Spartan.

Maria immediately swung her rifle, batting the Elite's weapon away with the muzzle and forcing open the Elite's guard, which she quickly exploited. Seizing the side of the Elite's head, she rammed it to the corridor wall with enough force to leave a sizable dent. As the Elite went limp, either because he was dead or unconscious, Maria became aware of a veritable firing squad of Covenant soldiers set up a couple of meters further into the corridor. Maria had just enough time to wonder what this Elite was doing so far up and in the line of fire of his comrades when her battle instincts took over and she brought her assault rifle up and started firing into the mass with one hand.

The front row consisted of Jackals with their arm shields active, however there were still gaps that allowed Maria's bullets to make it through. At first they didn't fire back, presumably out of fear of hitting their comrade Maria was holding onto, but as soon as one of the Grunts dropped to the floor with blood squirting out from a bullet hole in his neck, the Covenant lost any and all compunctions they may have had and just started shooting.

With absolutely no cover in the corridor, Maria was forced to use the next best thing. Hauling the Elite upright, she hefted his body in front of her, using him as a human shield of sorts while she backpedaled. All sorts of plasma struck the Elite's body, boring holes into his armor and burning his flesh, but aside from a couple of stray shots, Maria was able to avoid getting hit. She felt the bolt on her rifle lock back, so she tucked the weapon under her arm and just focused on backing up around the corner. As soon as she was clear, she released the Elite, now looking more like a lump of roast flesh than an actual body.

"Contact," she announced, somewhat unnecessarily as she reloaded.

"At least we know we're heading in the right direction," Kai noted.

Maria inclined her head in his direction in agreement as she stashed her rifle back onto her back.

"There are five Jackals in the front row providing cover," she reported, pulling out a plasma grenade and handing it over to Kai before pulling out her plasma pistol. "I'm going to hit the center one with an overcharge shot, disable his shields. 19, nail him. 170, suppressing fire... now."

Zalmir immediately stuck his SAW around the corner and held down the trigger. Fortunately his weapon had a smart-link interface so he wasn't just blindly firing. Maria waited until the return fire had slowed before rounding the corner.

Plasma pistols didn't have gun sights in the traditional sense, but Maria was still able to zero in on the Jackal in question, cowering behind his shield while it was struck by machine fire. With her hand starting to burn from the heat of the overcharge weapon, she released the trigger and hurriedly ducked back as Kai took her place and hurtled the plasma grenade down the hall.

She heard the _pop_ of an energy shield getting disabled followed by the static discharge of a plasma grenade explosion. A piece of scorched metal slid down the hall, coming to a stop in the middle of the intersection, and without another word, Maria hurtled herself around the corner and kicked off the far wall, dolphin diving to the floor and drawing her rifle as she did.

Landing heavily on her stomach, Maria took a second to take stock: Kai's aim had been flawless and he had stuck the Jackal in the center right in the head. The explosion had completely vaporized the Jackal, seriously wounded the Jackals on either side of him as well as the Grunts standing behind him, and knocked the remaining two Jackals off their feet, leaving the entire group exposed.

Shouldering her rifle, Maria started firing.

Her first two rounds were directed at a needler-welding Grunt. The heavy 7.62 rounds smashed into his leg just above the kneecap, tearing the leg clean off and sending the Grunt screaming to the ground.

Her next two rounds were directed at the needler itself. The first round smashed through the weapon housing while the second somehow managed to ignite the entire magazine of blamite, causing it to detonate and throw purple needles in all directions, all of which, upon connecting with living tissue, also exploded.

Ignoring the chaos that was reigning among the Covenant's ranks, Maria continued to methodically eliminate the Covenant soldiers one by one, firing burst after burst at them. Her rifle unexpectedly jammed, but all she did was calmly yank back on the charging like she was on a firing range as opposed to an active firefight, ejecting the dud round and kept on firing.

Maria's next few burst were directed at another Elite Minor, one who was already bleeding from a wound caused by the wild needlers. Her first burst tore his left shin to shreds and forced him to drop down to one knee whereupon Maria shot him in the neck, right about where the jugular vein on a human would have been. Bleeding heavily, the Elite nevertheless jammed a finger into the wound to try and stop the bleeding while at the same time, bring up his plasma rifle with his other hand to shoot back. He managed to fire off a couple of bolts, but Maria's position on the ground made her an extremely small target and as a result, the bolts completely missed.

But before the Elite could try again, Kai stepped around the corner, leveled his shotgun and fired a single ten gauge slug right through the Elite's mouth.

His plasma rifle dropping to the ground, the Elite knelt there, as if his body was trying to decide whether or not he was dead yet. As he stood there swaying, Maria realized she could see the other end of the corridor clear through the hole in the Elite's head, and she quickly held her fire. Moments later, the Elite's body toppled over backwards, landing on the ground with an audible _thump_.

Finishing off the rest of her magazine by systematically pumping a round into each of the Covenant's bodies to make sure they stayed down, Maria climbed to her feet, reloading as she did.

"Status?" she demanded, shoving a fresh mag into her rifle and letting the empty one fall to the ground.

A single green light representing Kai lit up on her HUD but just as she was about to enquire further, Zalmir suddenly yelled out, "CONTACT REAR!"

Maria whirled around in time to see Zalmir literally sawing a Skirmisher in half with an extended burst. Maria's rifle automatically snapped up and she fired a snap shot at a Jackal standing nearby but the Jackal was able to activate his arm shield in time to deflect the rounds.

Behind the two aliens, Maria could see more Covenant soldier climbing through the blast doors at the end of the corridor they had just come from. Somehow the Covenant had managed to force the damaged devices open, abet, just barely, allowing a steady stream of Covenant soldiers to slip through.

Maria started shooting at them but then -

"Contact twelve!" Kai warned and Maria could hear his shotgun roaring to life.

She glanced over her shoulder to see more Covenant soldiers coming down the hall towards them, though once Kai had opened fire on them, they had immediately dropped down for cover.

Taking that opportunity, Kai ducked back around the corner only to immediately reemerge with a frag grenade in hand.

"Frag out!" he yelled and hurtled the device downrange.

The corridor lit up with an explosion, wounding several Covenant soldiers, but it wasn't enough. Glancing back in Zalmir's direction, Maria could see he was just barely keeping the Covenant on his side pinned down, but his SAW was moments away from running out of ammo and once that happened, the Covenant would be able to seize the initiative and the tables would turn. They had to leave.

"Smoke out!" Maria called as she pulled out a couple smoke grenades and tossed them at her feet.

Instantly the three Spartans were covered in a cloud of black smoke. The Covenant fire immediately slackened as they temporarily lost sight of their target, but it wouldn't take long for them to reacquire it. But Maria had no intention of stick around that long.

"Fall back," she ordered, urging her team to retreat down the corridor the firing squad had been.

Things were getting a little too hot. While she had every confidence in her team's ability to eliminate both groups of Covenant that were attacking them at the moment, doing so would take time, during which more Covenant combat teams would arrive. No, Maria's team needed to figure out a way to get a lead on the Covenant. Gain some time where the Covenant weren't chasing them so they could plant the bomb and leave.

Essentially, they needed some way to temporarily disappear. The smoke helped, but unfortunately it wasn't going to be enough as the smoke would only last a few more seconds. They needed something a bit more permanent. But what?

Stumbling through the thick smoke, Maria activated her thermals to help her navigate. As she did, she happen to notice an outline of something in the corridor wall.

Why, hello there.

**XXX**

Zek anxiously watched as on screen, both Lances cautiously advanced on the cloud of smoke. The smoke was so thick, his cameras had trouble penetrating it, but he had enough of them he could cover the smoke from all angles. If the Demons emerged, Zek would know.

_"Salvation Station, this is Lance Tilu."_

Zek's radio came to life as one of the T'vaoan's in charge of the Security Lances reported in.

"This is Salvation, go ahead," he replied.

_"Are the Demons still in the smoke?"_

Zek glanced at all the screens he had assembled. He didn't see the Demons emerging from any of them.

"Affirmative," Zek replied in confirmation.

_"Have you determined how to remove the smoke?"_

Zek glanced at Rezan, as he was the one supposed to be working on that. Rezan bobbed his head.

"Affirmative," Zek repeated.

_"Good. On my command."_

A button appeared on his console and Zek hovered his hand over it as he watched both Lances take up firing positions.

_"Three…two…one…BEGIN!"_

Zek slammed his hand on the button. At once, several fans built into the ceiling came to life. They immediately sucked the smoke away to reveal -

Nothing. There was absolutely nothing. No Demons, not even a hint of them. Only the brass casing from their weapons and a number of bodies to show that they were even there.

Zek stared at his screen, unable to comprehend what he was seeing. How did... what did... where did they go!?

_"Ryökäle,"_ he heard the T'vaoan swear over the radio. _"Salvation, I thought you said the Demons were in the smoke!"_

"They were in the smoke!" Zek insisted.

_"Then you are either blind or stupid you vittu because they. Are. Not. THERE!"_

"I was watching the cameras the entire time! They did not leave the smoke!" Zek protested.

_"Then where are they!?"_

"Goddess and the stars above, the stories are true! They really are Demons!" he heard Rezan wail and Zek snapped his beak at him for him to shut up as he quickly reviewed all the security footage he had.

Unfortunately, they all showed the same thing: the Demons disappeared into the smoke and never reemerged.

Zek reached for the radio, but before he could say anything, a high pitch whistling filled his radio, forcing him to rip off his headset in pain.

"What was that!?" he demanded.

"What was what?" Rezan nervously ask.

"That whistling!"

"Whistling? What whistling?"

Zek glared at him. "Are you telling me you didn't hear that whistling over the radio?"

"No..." Rezan slowly replied. "Play it for me?"

In response, Zek hit a switch, allowing the whistling to play out loud over a set of speakers.

"That's not whistling," Rezan slowly said. "That's the Huragok language."

Zek whirled on him in surprise. "And how do _you_ know that?" he demanded.

"I learned a little of it in training," Rezan replied, a bit defensively.

Zek couldn't help but raise his mouth in a condescending sneer. Why would Rezan even want to learn how to speak Huragok? Doing so was a bit like learning how to speak toaster: they weren't exactly the best conversationalist, so aside from being one giant waste of time, what exactly was the point?

"Well then," Zek began, trying to keep the derision out of his voice and failing. "Can you tell those gas bags to shut up? I'm trying to do some _actual_ work here."

"That's not exactly easy," Rezan admitted, "as the language also involves a lot of hand signals. Plus, I'm not sure this one would even listen to me. This one sounds very sad."

"What would those gas bags be sad about? Did they lose a crumb?" Zek sneered with a small laugh at his own joke, but unfortunately Rezan failed to notice.

"No... it is a little hard to understand," Rezan replied, his brow furrowed in concentration, "but I think it is trying to say one of its companions was just shot to death."

"Shot to -"

Realization suddenly struck Zek and he grabbed his radio.

"They're in the maintenance shafts!"

**XXX**

Maria warily kept her rifle trained on the weird floating squid-like thing as she gestured for her team to sneak past. She felt it was safe to say that in the twenty years she'd been fighting the Covenant, she had NEVER seen something like that before, so she wasn't sure how it would react to her killing its friend like that.

Fortunately, the floating squid seemed content to be simply making random gestures in the air with its tentacles, as well as continue to whistle rather obnoxiously.

"What is that?" she heard Zalmir asking as he slipped past her. He must have been really puzzled by what he was seeing to break radio silence like that.

"I have no idea," Maria admitted. "Just keep moving."

He wordlessly nodded and moved down the shaft.

Shooting the squid one last look to make sure it wasn't going to pull out a weapon on her the moment she turned her back, Maria followed. The shaft they were in appeared to be some sort of maintenance shaft, specifically designed for those squids because it was rather small. It was tall enough she could walk through without having to crouch, but it was just narrow enough she need to angle her body ever so slightly. She really couldn't see Elites or Brutes forcing their way here, Jackals and Skirmishers always preferred much wider spaces, Grunts would have lowered the ceiling, and Drones liked things a bit more damp. Which left the squids.

Whatever the case was, Maria was just thankful they were lucky enough the tunnel was emanating enough heat to be picked up on thermals, and that Kai had been able to force the door open without leaving much of a mark. With just a bit more luck, it would be several more minutes before the Covenant realized they were down here, at which point Argon Team would have gained enough of a lead that it wouldn't matter.

Of course, as a soldier, Maria hated relying on luck. John may have been one giant, walking good luck charm, but for everyone else, they had to rely on their wits and their skills to get through the situations they often found themselves. Which is why she decided to throw all caution to the wind and urge her team to move as fast as they could.

"62, I'm picking up readings of multiple energy sources of varying strength," Kai suddenly reported from the front of the team.

Maria considered what he just said. "Lock on to the one with the strongest reading; that should be the main reactor."

A green light winked at her in acknowledgement.

Good. They were almost through this.

**XXX**

_"Those fools should have waited for me before engaging!”_ Kamet snapped over the radio. _“If those Demons manage to escape because of those fools' incompetence, I swear by all that is holy, THEY SHALL PAY!”_

Zek did his best to ignore Kamet's ranting as he frantically worked on trying to locate the Demons. Unfortunately, he wasn’t having much luck and Kamet wasn’t helping matters.

“ _Where are the Demons now?"_ he heard him suddenly demanded to know over the radio.

Zek hit the talk button. "We're working on it sire, standby," he said a bit irritably, before quickly switching the radio off.

At the moment, he and Rezan were pouring over every single security camera they had access to. Unfortunately, there weren't any cameras inside the maintenance shafts themselves, mainly because the Huragok kept taking them apart. Nothing had ever been done about it because, honestly? Who cared what the stupid gas bags were doing down there? As long as they did their jobs properly, they could do whatever they wanted.

But now Zek was beginning to realize how much of a security flaw that was. They had no way of tracking the Demons while they were in the shafts, and could only hope the Demons somehow accidently slipped up and provided some sort of signal, showing their exact location. But if even half the stories about the Demons were true, Zek doubted they would ever make a mistake like that, and could only watch the cameras in the hopes of catching a glimpse of them when they emerged.

"The Shipmaster has demanded an update," Rezan grimly reported.

Zek nervously swallowed. Great. Just what they needed.

"Any chance we could transfer him to Kamet and have him deal with it instead?" Zek hopefully asked.

"Probably," Rezan replied with a scoff. "Shipmasters generally prefer not speaking to 'lesser races' like us."

"Do it, then," Zek commanded without second thought, immediately turning back to his cameras. It was a little hard to focus though, mainly because that same Huragok kept whistling over the radio. Or at least, he assumed it was the same one. He couldn't tell the difference between the stupid things.

"Can't you tell that thing to shut up?" Zek demanded. "What's it even saying anyways?"

Rezan frowned.

"I think it's just saying the same word over and over again," he reported after a moment. "Though I'm not sure what it is. Electricity, I think. Or energy."

"You think?" Zek echoed.

"Hey, I don't see _you_ trying to translate," Rezan said, somewhat defensively. "Like I said, the Huragok language also involves a lot of hand symbols, so without being able to see it, it could be saying, I don't know, power or something."

"Like... the power generator? A reactor?" Zek suggested.

"I don't know. Maybe." Rezan abruptly froze. "Wait... where do those tunnels lead?"

"All over the ship. That's what they're for."

"Does that include the main reactor?"

Zek paused, and then felt like smacking himself. For some reason, he'd gotten it in his head that the Demons were here to _capture_ the ship, which is why he thought they were headed for the bridge. But if they were here to _destroy_ the ship...

"Bring up all the cameras from engineering," Zek commanded as he grabbed his radio. "Major Kamet, we believe the Demons are heading straight for the main reactor."

Zek paused as Rezan brought up a view of the main reactor room.

"There!" he barked, snapping his fingers as, on screen, a hidden door suddenly opened and all three Demons began filing out. "Right there! Major Kamet, Demons spotted in the main reactor room!"

_"Lock down the room, do not let anyone in or out, I am on the way!"_ Kamet immediately yelled back.

"Yes, sire!" Zek glanced at Rezan and nodded. "Do it."

Rezan hit a few buttons and on screen, Zek watched as all the doors to the room slide shut. The Demons didn't appear all that concerned and instead, seemed to be busying themselves doing who knew what. Whatever it was, it had Zek concerned and he quickly picked up his radio again.

"I'm directing all Security Lances to that room," Zek announced.

_"NO! No, you will not!"_

Zek jumped as Kamet's voice suddenly filtered through the radio. Zek must have accidently pressed the talk button when he was talking to himself because Kamet continued.

_"You will not call any other Lances to the Demon's location,"_ he insisted. _"I will personally deal with all three Demons myself."_

And then, in a much softer voice, he added something Zek was pretty sure he wasn't supposed to hear. _"And in doing so, I shall reclaim my honor."_

The line went dead as Kamet switched his mic off, leaving Zek to stare at the radio in shock.

"What... what is he doing?" Zek demanded to know. "Curse these Sangheili and their incessant need for 'honor!'"

"He can't hope to fight all three Demons himself and win. Zek, he's dooming the entire ship to death!" Rezan pointed out.

Zek nodded his head in agreement, but then again, there wasn't much he could do. He'd been given a direct order, and all he could do was obey. That was his duty, and that was his responsibility.

At the same time, Zek very much did _not_ want to die just yet...

Coming to a decision, Zek reached for the radio...

**XXX**

The sound of something yelling in Sangheili echoed overhead but Maria ignored it in lieu of magnetizing the nuke to the wall and arming it so that if anyone attempted to remove it, it would detonate. Scanning the screen with her wrist mount TACPAD, Maria waited until she heard a chime over her headset, indicating the bomb was now ready and awaiting the detonation signal.

"That's it," she declared. "Let's go."

Her team nodded and headed straight for the nearest door. The doors had slammed shut the moment they had entered the room, but Maria wasn't worried. She still had a few blocks of C-12 left, so getting the door open once more wouldn't be a problem.

But before she could even reach the door, it abruptly slid open, and the Spartans were confront with a single Elite clad in red armor and wielding an active energy sword, standing in their way.

The Elite Major took one look at the assembled Spartans and abruptly let out a roar. It was clear what the Elite wanted: one on one combat.

Maria glanced at Kai, and then over to Zalmir, and then without a word all three of them simultaneously raised their weapons and began blasting away -

\- only to see all their rounds pass right through the Elite without causing any damage. Maria didn't even bother wasting any time cursing.

"Holographic decoy!" she warned. "Watch your - "

The hairs on the back of her neck tingled and she immediately ducked as an energy sword passed right through the space her head had been occupying moments before.

The Elite Major was standing right behind her. How and when he got behind her without Maria or her team noticing, she didn't know and she didn't care as all she was concerned about was the fact he was right there, right now.

Hitting the Elite with a sidekick and shoving him away to try and obtain some room, Maria spun around, snapping up her rifle at the same time, but the Elite recovered a lot faster than she anticipated. He leapt forward, swinging his sword and Maria was just barely able to dodge but not before the Elite managed to cut through the front end of her rifle, shearing through the gas block and turning her weapon into a bolt action rifle in the process.

Sidestepping the next blow, Maria fired the round she had in the chamber right at the Elite's chest, which was absorbed by his shield, before hurtling the remains of her rifle at his face. In the split second it took for him to dodge, Maria whipped out her pistol but before she could properly bring it to bear, the Elite kicked it out of her hand and then immediately followed it up with a push kick to her face with the same leg. Maria had not anticipated the follow up and took the blow full force to the visor, sending her stumbling backwards and into Zalmir who instinctively caught her.

Sensing an opening, the Elite darted forward, trying to stab Maria through the chest with the twin prongs of his sword, but Maria quickly wrapped one leg around Zalmir's ankle and leaned back, deliberately tripping him and knocking both of them to the ground with her on top and him on the bottom.

The Elite then tried to stab down but Maria swung her legs, hitting the Elite's arm and deflecting his sword to the side with her left leg, while driving the heel of her right foot into the Elite's now-exposed chest, shoving him back a few centimeters. She quickly scrambled to her feet and out of the corner of her eye, she could see Kai stepping to the side for a better angle and bringing his shotgun to bear but before he could fire -

_FWOOZ!_

A green bolt flew through the open door behind them and slammed in Kai's right pauldron, instantly turning it to slag.

"Contact twelve!" Kai bellowed and Maria half turned to see another Security Lance come charging up the corridor through the door they initially were looking into leaving the room from, screaming and hollering and firing their weapons.

"19, 170, deal with that!" Maria managed to bark out between breaths. "I'll deal with him!"

Two green lights winked at her as gunfire began roaring out from behind her, but Maria hardly noticed as all her attention was on the Elite standing in front of her. He had adopted a defensive stance, with his free arm extended out in front of him and his sword arm bent at the elbow, holding his sword right by his chest. But aside from wearily eyeing her, the Elite made no other motion as Maria reached down and pulled out her combat knife.

Hunching down slightly so she could better protect her vital organs, Maria brought her hands up in a defensive posture and waited. For a moment, both opponents watched each other, willing the other to make the first move.

Conscientious of her limited time, Maria struck first. She abruptly jabbed forward, as if to try and stab the Elite in the chest with her knife, but the Elite responded just as quickly, batting away her blade with his free hand and then stabbing downwards towards her lead leg with his sword. Maria deftly jerked her leg up and out of the way, then delivered a snap kick towards his face which he blocked with the hilt of his sword then he followed with a swift flick of his wrist, swinging his sword in an attempt to slash Maria across the abdomen. Maria in turned jerked back while simultaneously slashing at his face with her knife, but found she didn't quite have the reach and missed entirely. The motion did startle the Elite, causing him to reflexively scoot back and bring his sword back to his chest to try and protect it from further attack, only none came as Maria herself had taken the opportunity to take a step back and assume a defensive stance, having incorrectly predicted the Elite had been planning to immediately counterattack. The two fighters carefully watched each other with just a bit more weariness.

For her part, Maria was mentally reviewing everything that had happened in the last few seconds, trying to spot a weakness. This Elite was hardly the best fighter she had ever encountered, but he _was_ good. And it wasn't as if she was some sort of martial arts grandmaster herself. Every Spartan had received extensive training in just about every form of martial arts humanity had ever created, but Maria's interests had always been in pistols and gunslinging. She was no Fred or Will basically, so if she wanted to survive this, she needed to be extremely careful.

Despite her caution, the Elite's attack came out of nowhere. Perhaps picking up on her slightly distracted state, the Elite decided to be the one to open up the fight this time and launched himself forward in an attempt to skewer Maria with his sword. Maria was just barely able to twist her body out of the way, but it turned out to be a feint as the Elite swung his free hand in a sort of roundhouse punch, slamming his fist into the side of Maria's head with enough force to send her staggering.

Reeling from the blow, Maria did her best to avoid stumbling into the extremely sharp plasma sword, spinning around in a backwards motion and then ducking just as quickly as the Elite slashed his sword diagonally upwards, trying his best to cut her in half. She was then forced to leap off the ground as the Elite abruptly crouched and sliced horizontally with his sword, but then, before Maria could land, the Elite darted forward and slammed his shoulder into her while she was still in mid-air. Maria was thrown backwards, landing heavily on her back a couple meters away, but she was given no time to recover as the Elite let out a triumphant roar and surged forward to attack. Maria quickly rolled to the left as the Elite stabbed his sword into the ground where she had been moments ago, and kept rolling as the Elite dragged his weapon in her direction, the superheated plasma blade easily cutting right through the metal deck like it was made of paper.

Sparks were unexpectedly thrown into the Elite's face as he accidently cut through something electrical and in that split second he was distracted, Maria reversed her rolled and kicked the Elite right in the face. The Elite was sent staggering backwards and Maria leapt to her feet and charged forward for the attack, only to find she must have not hit him as hard as she thought because he recovered instantaneously and Maria was forced to immediately switch gears and return to the defensive.

Turning his blade so it was parallel to the ground, the Elite stabbed forward right at Maria's face but fortunately Maria was able to stick her knife in the open space between the two plasma prongs and run it forward until it hit the hilt and deflect the energy sword to the Elite's left so that his blade arm was crossed his chest, and then pushed with all her strength to keep it pinned there. With his guard down, Maria immediately head-butted him and as his head snapped back from the blow, tried to follow it up with a vicious jab with her free hand, but before the blow could connect, the Elite twisted his sword, putting the metal blade of her knife in contact with the two prongs of plasma, causing it to immediately melt, destroying her weapon and the one thing keeping his arm pinned. He swung his sword horizontally at about neck height as Maria dropped the remains of her knife to the ground, and Maria was just barely able to duck under his blow, but then she found herself in a position where she was able to wrap her arms around the Elite's waist, lift him off the ground, and topple over backwards, much to the Elite's surprise.

Sadly, due to her haste, Maria wasn't quite able to pull off her suplex with absolute perfection and thus instead of landing on the Elite like she intended, both fighters painfully ended up landing on their sides. But, given that she had been expecting the impact, Maria was able to recover first, hitting the Elite in the face with an upper elbow strike and then driving the sole of her right foot into his chest, sending both fighters sliding across the floor away from each other. Both combatants scrambled to their feet at about the same time and the Elite, perhaps hoping to catch Maria off guard, leapt forward to try and skewer her with his sword but because he was still reeling from the blow to the head, he wasn't as fast as he had been and Maria was able to see the strike coming.

Stepping to the side at the last second, Maria stuck out her left arm and managed to clothesline the Elite, catching him in the neck and sending him sprawling to the ground once more. She tried curb stomping his face into the ground but missed as he rolled to the side and hastily retaliated, swinging his sword up and between her legs, trying to bisect her vertically, but Maria was just able to grab a hold of his wrist. Despite the awkwardness of the situation, Maria nevertheless started squeezing with all her might, and the Elite let out a cry of pain, the first noise both of them had made since the dual began, as his vambrace cracked under the pressure and started to dig into his forearm.

His energy sword abruptly disappeared in a flash as the pain from his forearm forced him to release the hilt, and Maria hastily stepped on it and slid it across the floor, out of reach. She could hear a _clang_ noise as it hit a wall somewhere behind her but as she was doing that, the Elite abruptly punched her with his free hand and, temporarily balanced on one leg as she was, Maria was forced to release her hold on the Elite as she was knocked off her feet.

Landing on her back a couple meters away, Maria was nonetheless able to maintain her momentum by throwing her legs up and over her head, performing a rather awkward back roll. As soon as her feet touched the ground, she charged forward, catching the Elite, who was only just beginning to stagger upright, off guard.

She opened up with a knee strike to his face, one that he was able to block, but that only left him vulnerable to the downward elbow strike she delivered to the back of his head. The blow knocked him towards the ground but Maria quickly grabbed his shoulders and hauled him upright, and the Elite immediately brought his hands up to protect his face but that only left him open to the right upper cut that Maria drove into his stomach. The Elite reflexively dropped his hands to cradle his stomach so Maria hammered the side of his face with her left elbow, sending him stumbling backwards. Before he could get far, Maria jabbed him into the throat with her right hand, crushing his windpipe.

Choking, the Elite nevertheless tried to still fight back, feinting a jab with his left hand, which was followed by a genuine roundhouse punch with his right hand, however Maria was able to easily see through the deception. Snagging his arm out of the air, she threw it into an arm lock, causing the Elite to gasp out in pain. He tried to punch her with his free hand but Maria easily blocked the blow with her left leg, and then kneed him in the face with the same motion.

Taking advantage of the Elite's stunned state, she ducked under his arm while maintaining hold of his wrist, backing up so her back was pressed up against his upper torso, and then abruptly leaned forward while pulling on his arm with all her might. The Elite managed to let out a surprised squawk as he was flipped over Maria's shoulder before landing heavily on his back on the ground.

Not giving a chance for the Elite to recover, Maria hauled him upright so that he was laying on his side before planting her right foot on his neck, pressing down firmly while at the same time, using his arm to pull him upwards.

The Elite immediately tried to punch her with his free hand but because she was standing behind him, there was no easy way for him to reach. Nor did he have any sort of leverage to break free.

As the blood circulation slowly but surely began to be cut off from his brain, the Elite's motions became more and more frantic as he desperately tried to break free, but Maria mercilessly maintained her hold on him, and slowly the Elite's blows grew weaker and weaker. Suddenly the Elite went limp, his free arm landing on the ground with a mute thump.

Maintaining her hold just in case the Elite was faking it, Maria waited a few more seconds before she was convinced he was dead. Letting his body fall to the ground, Maria let out a mute groan of pain. Despite the hydrostatic gel built into her Mjolnir Mark IV suit, she was black and blue all over, while her armor itself was covered in all sorts of dents and grooves from the blows the Elite had been raining on her. Furthermore, her lip had busted open and she could feel blood dripping from her left nostril. Nonetheless, she was still alive and he wasn't.

Walking over and retrieving her pistol from the ground, she casually shot the Elite a couple of times in the head just to make sure he really was dead, wincing slightly at the loud noise: her suppressor had somehow snapped off.

As she unscrewed the now useless device, she suddenly became aware of the general lack of gunfire in the room.

"Team, sound off!"

"Exit route is secured," Kai reported as he walked back into the room, shoving more shells into his shotgun. He was in turned, followed by Zalmir, looking no worse for wear. "No casualties to report."

Maria nodded. "Good. Let's - "

A blast door on the far end of the room slid open.

"Contact, six o'clock!" Maria bellowed, snapping her pistol up and drilling the first Covenant soldier that charged through the doorframe right between the eyes. "Reverse bounding overwatch sequentially by Spartan number! 19, cover!"

"Covering!" Kai bellowed as his shotgun roared to life.

Maria nailed one more Covenant soldier in head before dashing from the room, reloading as she ran. Her team wasn't out of the woods just yet, but they were almost there.

They were almost there.

**XXX**

"...Demons are on Eayn Deck, heading down the main corridor! All Lances, move to intercept!" Zek frantically yelled into the radio. This was impossible! How could the Demons have fought against such numbers, and yet emerge without a scratch!? That wasn't fair!

The computer had been steadily adding up the total number of Covenant martyrs so far and things were looking grim. Dozens upon dozens of Covenant warriors, many of whom had been Zek's friends and comrades, had been killed already and given the Demon's continual presence aboard this vessel, Zek knew those numbers would only grow. How could a simple Ruuhtian defeat such an unstoppable force?

The only consolation Zek had was that Kamet had managed to prevent the Demons from doing whatever they had been planning to do inside the main reactor room. While fighting the head Demon in a one-on-one dual was both reckless and stupid, and had cost Kamet his life, there was no denying Kamet had managed to delay them long enough for more Security Lances to show up and drive them off.

Still, the sooner the Demons were off his ship, the better Zek would sleep tonight.

"Rezan, see if you can't make the Shipmaster think we're sealing off the blast doors, but don't actually do it. I don't even care about trying to kill these Demons: I just want them off my ship. Rezan?"

Zek glanced at Rezan, but he wasn't paying attention. Instead, he was carefully staring at a feed from one of the cameras inside the main reactor room.

“Zek…” he slowly began, “what is that?”

Zek looked up to see what Rezan was staring at. It was a sort of egg shaped weapon, maybe only about the length of his forearm in height at most, with a small blinking red light. Despite the rather innocent look to it, Zek felt the blood in his veins go cold as he knew exactly what that device was.

“That’s a bomb,” he announced in hush tones as he reflexively climbed to his feet.

A horrified look appeared on Rezan’s face. “Voi… paska…”

“Alert the Shipmaster!” Zek snapped, and Rezan jumped into action. “Get everyone out of there! Call up some Huragok immediately and have them – “

A shadow crossed in front of Zek’s camera, temporarily distracting him, and he looked up to see one of the Unggoy wander into view, staring at the bomb with a curious look on his face. To Zek’s horror, the Unggoy began reaching out his fat stubby hands towards the bomb.

Zek leapt for his radio.

“NO! DON’T TOUCH – “

The Unggoy grabbed the bomb.

**XXX**

“Bounding! _Cover!_ ” Maria screamed as the slide on her pistol locked back.

She surged upright and began running down the hall, slapping Zalmir on the shoulder as she ran past. Immediately, his SAW roared to life, preventing the Covenant from effectively returning fire or advancing. In front of her, she could see Kai further down the corridor setting up to cover for Zalmir’s retreat.

They were making good time. As long as they kept leapfrogging back down the corridor, they would be able to keep the Covenant at bay long enough for them to –

A loud chime filled Maria’s ears and at the instant, time seemed to slow down to two hundredths of a second as just about every neuron inside her brain lit up with activity. Several thoughts immediately ran through her brain:

First, was the realization that the noise was the sound of the Fury tactical nuclear weapon being activated. But how? She hadn’t triggered anything yet because they were still at least two hundred meters away from the extraction point!

Two was the understanding that while she was only about three steps away from Zalmir, because she was moving away from him, it would actually take her more time to stop, turn around, and grab him as opposed to simply continuing to charge forward in Kai’s direction.

And finally three, was the cold acceptance that one of her teammates was going to die within the next second or so.

The last conscious thought that passed through Maria’s head was regret over the fact she would never be able to see what sort of Spartan Zalmir would have become before her reflexes took over and she hurtled herself at Kai, wrapping one arm around his abdomen as she tackled him while at the same time, pulling out her drop shield and throwing it to the ground.

She had just enough time to see the blue shield start to form before everything vanished in a brilliant white flash.

**XXXXX**

**UNSC _Moonlight Sonata_**

**Lieutenant Commander Luzader**

“Sir, we have confirmed detonation of the bomb!”

Luzader spat out the coffee he’d been drinking. “ _WHAT!?_ Did Spartan-062 confirm she and her team were clear of the ship yet!?”

“Negative, sir!”

Out of the corner of his eye, Luzader could see Volkov rising to his feet in alarm, but he ignored him in lieu of dashing over to his TAO.

“Detachment Argon! Did they get out? _Did they get out!?_ ”

“I don’t know, sir!”

“Radio comms? Transponders? Beacons? Is there anyone way we can pick them up!?”

Luzader’s TAO threw up her hands in frustration. “The entire area is washed with both radiation and debris! My sensors can’t pick _anything_ up right now!”

“Give me visual of the entire area! Track for any debris that could potentially be the Spartans! NOW!”

A screen appeared in front of Luzader’s face showing target 1-Delta as it disintegrated in real-time right before his very eyes. In the distance, he could see the engines of all three remaining cruisers ignite as the Covenant began reacting to the unexpected destruction of one of their own from deep within their own ranks. In the bottom right hand corner, Luzader could see a HUD display filling up with blue dots as the UNSC fleet reacted, charging forward straight towards their objective, but as the sublight engines on the Covenant’s fleet flared and their ships began breaking away from orbit, Luzader knew the UNSC Navy would be too late to be able to do much damage.

_“Commander, what the_ **fuck** _was that? Were my orders not explicit enough? I told you to inform me the exact moment you were about to detonate the bomb!”_ he heard Admiral Spaatz screaming over the radio, but Luzader ignored him in lieu of visually searching for any signs that Argon Team had made it off the ship alive.

“Come on, come on,” he muttered under his breath. “FUCK! Does _anybody_ have _anything!?!?”_

Everybody on the bridge shook their heads.

“Wait, sir! I think I got something!” one of Luzader’s technicians abruptly called out, and Luzader all but sprinted over to him.

“What is it?” Luzader anxiously asked her.

“An Army AA battery just picked up three rapidly moving objects passing through the upper stratosphere right now!”

“The Spartans?”

“Uh… unknown. The Army isn’t looking in the right direction.”

“Execute a command overwrite and give me control of that search radar,” Luzader barked. “Track those objects and give me a trajectory, now!”

The technician’s fingers were a blur as she rapidly typed out a few commands on her keyboard, only to mournfully shake her head. “Search radar is mounted on a self-propelled vehicle, sir, I can’t execute a command overwrite remotely from here.”

“God **dammit!”** Luzader snapped, driving his fist into the console and causing his technician to jump in surprise.

Without saying another word, Luzader grabbed a hold of her screen and began pouring over the data. The Army search radar hadn’t actually picked up much, as it had only noticed the objects as it passed through its narrow search window, but somehow, in his heart, Luzader knew those objects were the Spartans.

The search radar hadn’t been able to confirm what those objects were, but it had been able to clock their speed and as Luzader glanced at the numbers, he couldn’t help but wince. At the speeds the Spartans had been moving at, even if they had survived the initial explosion, the impact alone would kill them.

His technician suddenly brought her hand to her ear, catching his attention, and Luzader watched as a frown pass over her face.

“Sir, I’m picking up… never mind sir, it’s gone.”

“What?” Luzader demanded.

“I’m sorry, sir, I thought I had just picked up Argon Team’s transponders, sir, but it disappeared just as quickly as it had appeared. Must have been a glitch or an echo.”

“How long was it active for?”

Luzader jumped at the sound of Volkov’s voice coming from directly behind him, having not heard him approach in the first place. He glanced over his shoulder to see Volkov standing there, an ashen look on his normally stoic face, staring at the screen with an intense look on his face.

The technician glanced at her screen. “Signal was active for exactly… 14.762 seconds, sir.”

“That is not is not a glitch, those are the Spartans,” Volkov snapped. “Where did the signal originate?”

The technician looked apologetic. “We didn’t have enough time to zero in on a location, sir.”

“Give me an approximate location.”

“This is about as specific as I can get it, sir,” the technician informed them as she tapped a few keys, and a map of the city of Byzas appeared on screen. It began zooming in until only the downtown area was showing.

Luzader felt the blood draining from his face. Not only did the area consist of almost half the city, much of the area had already been washed away in a sea of red dots. That was rapidly becoming enemy controlled territory. If the Covenant managed to get their hands on the Spartans…

Luzader glanced at Volkov, who had a similar look on his face indicating that, he too, understood the implications. They exchanged a look.

This?

This was not good.

* * *

** Covenant Race Names: **

Kig-Yar: Jackal

Ruuhtian: a sub-species of the Jackal race; specifically, they are the ones seen in all of the Bungie games, most notably wielding the brightly colored round energy shields on their arms (in contrast, in the 343 trilogy, they’ve been mostly replaced by a _third_ Jackal sub-species known as the Ibie’sh)

T'vaoan: Skirmishers (these are actually another Jackal sub-species)

Unggoy: Grunt

Sangheili: Elite

Mgalekgolo: Hunter

Huragok: Engineer

** The Spartans **

All three members of the Spartan are actually canon Spartans. Sort of.

\- Maria-062 is a Spartan II whose first and only appearance is in the _Halo Graphic Novel,_ specifically the _Armor Testing_ story. Taking place just before the events of Halo 2, Maria is responsible for testing the Mjolnir Mark VI armor just before it gets issued to the Master Chief. In the story, it’s specifically mentioned she has retired from the service, for reason unknown (although information from other media suggest it may have been because of severe injuries sustained during combat.)

Sidenote: virtually all the Spartan IIs in canon have some sort of “unique trait” about them: Master Chief was luck, Linda was the best shot, Kelly was the fastest, Kurt Ambrose had spidey sense, etc. I figured Maria’s unique trait would be that she’s a gunslinger. (I was originally going to make her a demo expert, but apparently there’s already a Spartan that fits that role: Grace-093 from _Halo: First Strike_ )

\- Kai-A019 is a Spartan III from Alpha Company, whose first and only appearance is from the live-action short _Birth of a Spartan_ , which was made for the launch of _Halo: Reach._ In the short, he appears for all of four seconds, sitting next to Carter-A259 as they’re both transported to orbit to receive their augmentations.

\- Spartan-B170 is a Spartan III from Bravo Company. Out of all three Spartans that show up in this chapter, there is virtually nothing known about this Spartan, not even his or her name or gender. The only mention of this Spartan comes from extended material only available on bungie.net titled _Transcript of Mendez-Ambrose transmission_. In it, Lieutenant Commander Ambrose attempts to have Spartan-B170 and Lucy-B091 (from the novel, _Halo: Ghosts of Onyx)_ deployed on a deep reconnaissance mission just prior to Operation: Torpedo.

For the purpose of this story, I went ahead and made the Spartan a male and named him “Zalmir.” Why? Because I wanted a character that had a name that started with “Z.”

** General Notes: **

**Bottarga** is the Italian name for a delicacy of salted, cured fish roe, though it’s not strictly an Italian only dish; many different countries have similar dishes to this one under different names: in Croatia, it’s known as butarga or butarda and in Frances, it’s known as boutargue, just to name a few. For more information, check out the Wikipedia page.

**Garum** is a type of fermented fish sauce that was used in Ancient Greek, Rome, and during the Byzantium eras.

**Eayn** : according to Halopedia, Eayn is the name of the Jackal homeworld.

**J** **örmungandr** : this is actually from Norse mythology. The Jörmungandr is a giant sea serpent, so large it’s able to surround the Earth and grasp its own tail. In the mythology, Jörmungandr is one of Loki’s children, alongside Fenrir and Hel, and during Ragnarök, will ultimately be the one to kill Thor (who of course, is the Norse God of Thunder.)

On a more headcanon note, as Jackals have a somewhat avian nature (similar to the dinosaurs,) I thought it would make sense if one of their natural enemies would be snakes, as snakes regularly eat (among other things,) birds. Which is why in that situation, instead of think of a large cat (which a human might,) Zek’s first instinct is to compare the Spartan to a snake.

**Curses:** the curses the Skirmishers and Jackals are using are actually Finnish (as in, from Finland.) Why Finnish? Well, because as tvtropes puts it: “As Long as it Sounds Foreign.”

A rundown of the curses used and their meaning:

**Ryökäle** : “scoundrel” (this one, according to my research, is only really a curse among the older generation)

**Vittu** : the word translates into “cunt,” but from what I’ve read, in Finnish, the word is used in the same way as the word “fuck” is used in (American) English

**Voi paska** : “oh shit” or “oh crap”


	13. Send in the Marines

**Heliopolis Station, High Orbit, Actium  
May 6, 2545  
1245**

**Spaatz**

_“You should have clarified with me first.”_

Instead of replying straight away, Spaatz took a moment to take a large swig out of the steaming cup of coffee he had in his hand, both as a stall tactic in order to allow himself to gather his thoughts, and also because he _really_ needed that caffeine boost.

With both his attempts at disabling or destroying the Covenant capital ships having ended in failure, a sort of stalemate had emerged in space: while he _had_ managed to force those cruisers out of position and away from the planet while simultaneously inflicting an untold amount of damage to the invading fleet, doing so had cost him quite a bit of casualties among his own forces. As both fleets withdrew to lick their wounds, the focus of the invasion had shifted to the surface of Actium, where Spaatz’s ground forces were doing their best to contain the Covenant attack.

Of course, as a naval man, Spaatz would be the first to admit that in a ground war slugfest, the likes of which was currently unfolding nearly thirty thousand klicks on the surface below him, he would be completely out of his depth. Which is why he was here, in a holoconference call, with the supreme commander of all military forces on Actium, a certain three star general by the name of Jason Langley.

Lieutenant General Langley was an Army general who had loyally served with the UNSC armed forces for nearly half a century. Unlike most general officers in his position, Langley had begun his career as an enlisted artilleryman, who had been able to work his way up the ranks with his sharp wit and sheer tenacity. A combat veteran who had been baptized by fire in the opening days of the Insurrection, Langley had ended up making the switch to logistics when he had been commissioned as an officer, however he still processed a keen tactical mind. In comparison to some of his other staff officers, Spaatz found he rather enjoyed working with Langley, even if Langley was somewhat humorless at times, especially during crises such as this one.

Realizing Langley was still waiting for a response, Spaatz lowered his cup and sighed.

“General,” he began, “you’ll have to excuse me as it’s been a rather long day so far, so I apologize if what I’m about to say next comes across as rather…” he paused to think of an appropriate word, “…terse, but I’m not quite comprehending your dilemma here. Correct me if I’m wrong but, you _are_ the supreme commander of all ground forces here on Actium, are you not?”

 _“All **UNSC** forces,”_ Langley corrected, a grim look on his face. _“But yes, Admiral, I am.”_

“And at the moment, the Covenant are on Actium… are they not?”

_“That they are.”_

“Okay. Then, as the supreme commander of all UNSC forces on Actium, you should be able to engage the Covenant now as they are… on Actium.”

Spaatz’s eyes flicked up to Langley’s face, hoping to see a reaction, but his hologram must have froze as his face didn’t so much as twitch. Biting back a sigh, Spaatz continued.

“Perhaps, General, this is the result of my naval background, but this seems pretty straight forward to me. So, allow me to be blunt: what exactly is your problem here?”

Langley pinched the bridge of his nose, allowing Spaatz to see just how frustrated he actually was, and Spaatz began to regret his choice of words. _“My problem, sir, as you so succinctly put it, is the fact that the only reason why the Covenant are on the surface of Actium at moment is because_ you let them get there.”

Spaatz did his best to avoid rearing back in offense at the comment, but he couldn’t avoid the slight sting of betrayal he felt as he replied, “Need I remind you, General, that was a plan you _also_ agreed upon.”

_“Yes, but **only** because I had been assured by both the Navy and the Air Force they would be able to control the amount of ground troops the Covenant would be depositing onto the planet’s surface. I had not realized that the Navy and Air Force’s definition of control meant allowing an entire **Legion** of Covenant warriors to land on the planet!”_

Spaatz instantly bit the inside of his cheek to avoid reflexively responding with a bitter and sarcastic reply - which would have no doubted escalated their growing argument to inappropriate levels – and took another swig from his cup of coffee in an effort to force himself to think, not react.

“Alright, General,” he finally said once he had brought himself under control. “Perhaps Sixth Fleet and Orbital Defense Command overestimated the amount of control they would have over the battle once the Covenant began landing troops en masse. That still doesn’t change the fact that you _vastly_ outnumber anything the Covenant were capable of fielding in the short time their cruisers were on station over the city. So, again I ask: what is the predicament here…”

Spaatz trailed off as Langley quickly raised his index finger.

 _“On paper, Admiral,_ ” he insisted. _“On paper, my forces outnumber the Covenant something like fifty to one. Maybe even a hundred to one. Hell, according to these documents, I have enough combat and logistical units to field, I don’t know, something like six or seven army groups, depending on how I allocate them.”_

“Okay…” Spaatz slowly began. “So that’s what the documents say. But, given your reaction, I’m going to assume reality is a little bit different?”

_“In reality, only about a twentieth of those forces are actually present on this planet.”_

Spaatz stared him. “Excuse me? How is that even possible?”

Langley grimaced. _“Admiral, have you ever heard of the UNSC Army system_ POMCUS?”

“No, I have not.”

 _"It is an acronym that stands for Prepositioning Of Material Configured in Unit Sets,"_ Langley explained. _"Essentially, because of the heavy nature of UNSC Army equipment, both in terms of weight and logistical consumption, it takes a lot of effort to move said equipment across systems, especially since most of the Army was stationed in the inner colonies, while most of the hot zones were occurring in the outer colonies. As humanity continued to expand across the galaxy, so too did the time it took for the Army to respond to incidents. In order to compensate, the Army took to designating a number of planets sitting on the border between the inner colonies and outer colonies as POMCUS sites: locations where they would preposition entire corps’ worth of equipment_ _and vehicles. The idea being, the time it took to deploy to hot zones would be cut in half as a unit's equipment would be already halfway there."_

"And Actium is one of those sites, I presume?" Spaatz guessed.

_"Yes. Which comes into the problem of my paper army: all this equipment still belongs to the unit in question, so each unit keeps a small detachment at each POMCUS location to maintain said equipment. Those detachments still show up as a part of their parent units, so while on paper it may appear entire armored corps are present here on Actium, in reality, all together they maybe consist of about a company's worth of soldiers."_

Spaatz sighed.

“You think that would have been something you would have brought up when we were first discussing these plans,” he couldn’t help but grumble under his breath as he took another sip from his cup. More loudly, he said, “Okay. Talk to me then. What **_do_** you have on the ground?"

Langley gestured, and a map of Byzas and the surrounding area appeared. _"Byzas falls within the AO of the UNSC Army’s XIV Armored Corps, but of its three assigned divisions, only one is physically present on the surface: the 53rd Armored Division. The other two divisions are currently on deployment to hotspots elsewhere in the galaxy. At the moment, the situation on the ground is... chaotic, to say the least. The 53rd AD was in the middle of getting refitted after nearly being annihilated on Draco III and as a result, wasn't at full strength to begin with. Compounding the situation is the fact the Covenant landed right in the middle of the division, essentially cutting it in half."_

_"As soon as the Covenant touched down, I gave orders for all forces to begin an immediate counterattack, which promptly failed due to a lack of troops. One unit was however able to capture their objective, the town of Newington just south of the city, creating a hole in the Covenant's defensive line. Despite repeated attempts by the Covenant to dislodge them, they've managed to hold out though they're going to need reinforcements, and fast."_

_"To the north though, it's one giant mess. Soldiers weren't ready when the invasion began, units weren't in position, and most of my senior commanders are already dead or cut off. I ordered the 222nd Airborne Division in as soon as they arrived in system to try and take over the situation, but that failed. The only reason why we haven't been overrun just yet is because a city the size of Byzas is not an easy place to take control of. But unless we act now, well, it's only a matter of time."_

Spaatz massaged his temples. "What do you need from me?"

_"Troops. First, I need you to federalize all colonial and provincial militias so that they'll be under my command."_

"I thought Governor Sargsyan already did that?"

_"No, all she did was declare martial law, which simply meant the Colonial Militia was taking control over the entire colony. But they're still under their own chain of command. I need you to federalize them so that they'll be under UNSC control."_

Spaatz nodded. "Done. What else?"

_"Reinforcements. According to reports I’ve received from General Samatar, MCIA, forward elements of the 9th Marine Expeditionary Force has just arrived in system?”_

Spaatz subtlety gestured at the camera for Kanin, who appeared just off screen and nodded in confirmation. "Yes, they have."

_"Good. Drop them into the city."_

"Byzas?"

_"Yes."_

"Why there and not in the south?"

_"I’ve got an entire Colonial Militia rifle division moving up from the south that should arrive in the AO within the next few hours. Once they reinforce our positions in Newington, they should be able to hold out until the rest of the divisions from XXX Infantry Corps arrives, at which point, we’ll have enough firepower to go on the offensive. I don’t have any of that in the north. Furthermore, according to the reports I'm getting, the Covenant have suddenly shifted the weight of their attack north."_

Spaatz looked at him, intrigued. "Really. Why?"

Langley shook his head. _"Not sure, sir. Surveillance seems to suggest the Covenant have gone into a search pattern: they're looking for something, though what that something is, I’m not sure. INSCOM thinks they're looking for some sort of high value UNSC target that was lost about an hour ago, but I just checked with all my commands and no one has noticed anything. Not sure about FLEETCOM though..."_

Langley trailed off with an expectant look on his face, but Spaatz shook his head. He couldn't think -

He paused. ONI's spec ops team.

Ever since they had destroyed the Covenant's battlecruiser from the inside, they had gone completely dark. At first he'd been concerned they had been destroyed by their own nuke. After all, the bomb had gone off far earlier than he had anticipated.

But now, in light of the information he had just received, he was beginning to wonder if the lack of communication was for a far pettier reason: they had been avoiding him.

Spaatz resisted the urge to snort. That would be so typical of ONI to withhold critical information like that.

"General Langley, I'm afraid I'm going to have to end this call," Spaatz finally said. "You'll get your troops; I guarantee it. In the meantime though, I'm afraid I'm going to need to consult with someone else."

Langley looked curious, but he evidently knew better than to ask. Bowing his head ever so slightly, his hologram disappeared, leaving Spaatz fumbling.

"Kanin," he said, and Kanin's anamorphic hare avatar abruptly appeared in front of him. "I'm guessing you were listening.

"Yes sir."

"Connect me to the _Sonata_."

Kanin disappeared. A few seconds later, his image was replaced by that of Major Volkov and Commander Luzader. As Spaatz expected it would.

"Gentlemen," he began, as he fought to keep a neutral tone to his voice. "I just received word that the Covenant have gone into a sort of search pattern directly over the city of Byzas, as if they were looking for something. Something big. Something absolutely crucial to the success of this war. Care to explain?"

 _"We lost our Spartan team,"_ Volkov immediately said, causing Spaatz to blink in surprise. He didn't think they were going to outright admit to it.

"Come again?" Spaatz inquired. "What do you mean, you 'lost your Spartan team?'"

 _"Infiltration of the target battlecruiser went off without a hitch however during extraction, our bomb prematurely detonated for reasons currently unknown. As a result, Spartan team Argon was unable to extract in time and were ejected from the ship and landed somewhere in the middle of Byzas. At this point sir, we don't know where the Spartans are, what their status is, or if they're even alive at this juncture,"_ Volkov quickly explained, and Spaatz could tell he was not happy about this turn of events. Of course, neither was Spaatz.

"Major," Spaatz began as he pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration. "The Covenant cruiser was destroyed by your team nearly an hour ago. Why am I just hearing about this _now!?_ "

 _"We were attempting to gather intelligence so that we would be able to present to you a definitive solution to this situation,"_ Volkov began, sounding a bit defensive, but Spaatz quickly interrupted him.

"No gentlemen, this is unacceptable, _completely unacceptable_!" he snapped. "It’s one thing not to inform me of your presence in the system; at least you can hide behind the classified nature of your unit. But it's a different matter entirely in a disaster such as this!"

Neither Volkov nor Luzader said anything and instead, shuffled around somewhat uncomfortably. Given the situation, Spaatz couldn't help but derive some satisfaction at that sight, however fleeting.

He sighed and took another sip from his cup.

"But that's neither here nor there," he announced. "What's done is done. Now we have to figure out some way to deal with it. Information and facts. I need both. What do we know?"

Volkov shook his head. _"Not much sir. At approximately eleven forty hours local time, an Army self-propelled surface-to-air missile battery picked up three rapidly moving objects entering the atmosphere at the estimated time and location of where Argon Team would have entered the atmosphere after being ejected from target 1-Delta. Unfortunately the SPSAM wasn't pointed in the right direction, so we weren't able to track them, but the predicted trajectory places them as having landed somewhere in downtown Byzas. Approximately one hundred and thirty three seconds later, we picked up Argon Team’s transponder, unfortunately it lasted all of fourteen point seven six two seconds before terminating. Not long enough for us to obtain an exact lock."_

"So they made it to the surface intact," Spaatz noted.

 _"Not necessarily, sir,"_ Luzader immediately interrupted, drawing Spaatz's attention. _"Pardon the interruption sir, but we don't actually know if the team is intact or not."_

Before Spaatz could ask for an elaboration, Volkov whirled around on Luzader.

 _"The very fact that we were able to pick up on their transponder would prove that they did Commander,"_ he said, sounding surprisingly heated.

 _"Again, Major, we don't know that for certain!"_ Luzader immediately retorted. _"Those transponders were hardly active for any significant amount of time. For all we know, that could have been an echo from something else or even a glitch in the system as it fell apart! You have to remember how far and fast they were falling when they hit the ground Major!"_

 _"That signal was uniquely programed and coded for the Spartans. There is absolutely no way anyone else could have duplicated the signal; we would have known!"_ Volkov retorted. _"Furthermore, it's impossible for it to have been a glitch as those transponders were built to the same specifications as those found on escape pods and drop pods; they're virtually indestructible!"_

_"'Virtually' does not mean impossible! Case in point: the mere fact those transponders ended up shutting down!"_

_"Commander, the thing_ you’re _missing is that if those transponders had been damaged or destroyed in any way during the transit to the surface, then they wouldn't have activated_ **at all** _!"_

_"Then how do you explain them shutting down!?"_

_"Someone had to have turned them off!"_

"Hang on a second," Spaatz quietly interrupted, yet somehow managing to grab the attention of both Volkov and Luzader. "Are you saying, Major, that there's a possibility your team is alive?"

 _"Yes,"_ Volkov immediately said, while at the same time Luzader firmly and definitively announced, _"No."_

"Uh..." Spaatz slowly began as he looked at his subordinates. But before he could so much as get another word in, the two officers whirled around on each other.

 _"Oh, you can **not** still be clinging to this fantasy of yours Major!"_ Luzader snapped. _"I’m sorry Major, but your team is dead! Period!"_

 _"Commander, you knew better than I the official story behind the Spartan Program. And I have no doubt you also know the rumors because, as you so smugly pointed out a couple hours ago, you're a part of ONI and gathering 'intel' is a part of your job,"_ Volkov coldly retorted. _"Considering all those factors, how can you not even consider the_ **possibility** _that Argon Team is alive?"_

_"Because I can do the math, Major! And I don't care what the official or unofficial story behind the Spartan's background is, it is physically_ **impossible** _for a human to survive that kind of fall!"_

"Gentlemen," Spaatz quietly but firmly called out, trying to catch their attention as the conversation was beginning to get alarmingly heated, but unlike before, both officers completely ignored him.

 _"And yet,"_ Volkov continued, _"it has happened before! ODSTs and Army Rangers do it all the time! And in training no less!"_

 _"That is under entirely different circumstances, and you know it!"_ Luzader snapped back. _"Both units are utilizing specifically designed pods for that very purpose under controlled circumstances! And yet, soldiers still die all the time due to accidents!"_

_"And what would you call the prototype armor Argon Team was wearing then!? Those have been_ **proven** _to survive that kind of treatment!"_

_"Not after they've been blown up by a fucking nuke they haven't!"_

"Alright, that's ENOUGH!" Spaatz suddenly roared, causing both men to jump in surprise. He was beginning to see why it had taken them so long to report back to him. "This bickering is pointless, as there is obviously not enough information to draw a satisfactory conclusion. Therefore, we need to approach it from another angle. Let's approach it from a worst case scenario: Major Volkov's team is alive, but unable to defend themselves. How badly would we be compromised if those Spartans were captured alive?"

Both men looked startled, as if that very scenario had yet to occur to them. Spaatz patiently waited for an answer, but after a few seconds of them not meeting his eyes, Spaatz sighed.

"You don't know."

 _"The problem, sir,"_ Volkov said with obvious reluctance, _"is that a lot of what the Spartans would know,_ **we** _,"_ he gestured at himself and Luzader, _"wouldn't, simply because we don't have the clearance to know. Things like: past mission details and objectives. A list of colonies and bases they've been deployed to. Even the general specifications of the prototype armor they are wearing is unknown to us."_

 _"Plus, sir,"_ Luzader added, _"these Spartans are as human as you and I. There's no telling what sort of information they've managed to pick up over the course of their career. Some of it probably was classified."_

 _"Furthermore sir,"_ Volkov continued. _"There’s evidence to suggest the Spartans have garnered quite some notoriety amongst the Covenant Empire. If the Covenant were to capture a Spartan, not necessarily even a live one, it could prove to be a massive morale boost for them."_

"So basically gentlemen, what you're telling me is that it doesn’t even matter if your team is alive or not, it’s in the UNSC’s best interest to secure whatever is left?” Spaatz asked. “Alright then. Options?”

 _“MAC rounds, sir,”_ Luzader promptly suggested. _“Prior to contacting you sir, we were able to narrow our search area down to seven potential crash sites. A MAC round, even a low powered one, fired at each of those sites would ensure the complete and utter destruction of any potential remains.”_

“No, out of the question,” Spaatz immediately replied. “No weapons of mass destruction. Even if I was inclined to risk blasting holes into my own MLR, the situation in orbit right now is too tenuous; if I were to divert even _one_ ship or station to provide that kind of MAC support, it would weakened my fleet’s defensive posture considerably and we would run the risk of being swept from our position at which point we’d lose _everything._ ”

_“Then we use missiles and bombs instead sir. Surely your ships can fire a volley of Archer missiles without having to move from their positions?”_

_“Sir, I would like to object to the usage of indirect fire for this sort of mission,”_ Volkov interjected before Spaatz could reply. _“With so much at stake, we need to ensure that all trace of Argon Team and their equipment have been completely eliminated. In order to accomplish that with indirect, we’d need to score a direct hit on their crash site. But, given our current lack of intel, that would obviously be impossible.”_

“So what do you propose we do then Major?” Spaatz asked.

 _“We send in a ground detachment. A team of sappers, escorted by a squad of riflemen perhaps, go in with thermite and burn all traces of the Spartans. It’s the only way to be a hundred percent sure Argon Team and their effects have been secured.”_ Volkov paused. _“I would like to lead the detachment.”_

Spaatz raised an eyebrow at that last request, but ignored it for the moment in lieu of focusing on the first part. “I thought most of your support elements had yet to arrive in system Major?”

_“That is correct, sir, which is why I would need to requisition a detachment from troops already deployed in the city.”_

“I was under the impression that your team was still classified, need to know information.”

_“Yes, sir, it still is.”_

“And you think you’ll be able to find enough soldiers already on the surface with the proper security clearance to know about said team?”

_“Well, sir, I only need enough to fill one detachment. But with that being said, the detachment doesn’t need to know what we’re looking for, only that it’s crucial to the survival of the UNSC and humanity as a whole. Admittedly though, that can only be accomplished if I’m leading the team.”_

Spaatz gave him an odd look. “You’re only requesting _one_ detachment?”

_“Yes, sir.”_

“But Commander Luzader just said there were seven potential crash sites. Furthermore, reports from the ground seem to indicate the Covenant are also searching for your team. If you only have one detachment, how do you plan on reaching your team before the Covenant do?”

_“By ensuring the Covenant are completely and utterly distracted by other matters. Sir, it is my understanding that elements of the 9th Marine Expeditionary Force has already arrived within the system. If you could insert them into the city itself, the influx of UNSC reinforcements will put the vast majority of the Covenant forces on the defensive, preventing them from effectively continuing their search and hopefully buying my detachment enough time to locate and secure Argon Team and their effects.”_

“‘Hopefully,’” Spaatz echoed. “I’ll be blunt, Major: that’s not quite a word I was interested in hearing at the moment.”

_“I’ll be the first to admit, sir, this is not a foolproof plan. However, it is the best option we have at the moment.”_

Spaatz mentally sighed. Well, he had been planning on inserting the 9th MEF into the city already. “I suppose you’ll be requisitioning an ODST unit from the 9th MEF?”

_“Uh, no sir, I wasn’t planning on it. In fact, I was hoping to requisition a unit from the Army airborne division that was inserted about half an hour ago.”_

“Oh?” Spaatz asked, surprised. “And why is that?”

_“Multiple reasons, sir, first and foremost: I’ve seen the reports regarding the situation on the ground, sir, and I know we’re going to need all the Marines we’ve got just to hold the city, including all the ODSTs. The Airborne, on the other hand, we can afford to have allocated to other tasks.”_

Spaatz considered what Volkov had just told him. While his logic was sound, Spaatz couldn’t help but think there were other reasons why Volkov was insisting on using Army troopers instead of Marines.

Still, he supposed it didn’t matter. This mission needed to be accomplished. _Who_ accomplished it was irrelevant.

“You have a name for this operation?” Spaatz finally asked.

_“Yes, sir. Operation: WHITE KNUCKLE.”_

Spaatz almost snorted. White Knuckle. How apt.

“Very well, Major, you have a go. Coordinate with my aide-de-camp for whatever supplies and equipment you may need. Commander Luzader, keep me informed on the progress of the operation. That is all. You’re both dismissed.”

Both Volkov and Luzader immediately snapped to attention before their holograms disappeared, leaving Spaatz to stand there, mentally reviewing everything that had just been discussed.

“Kanin,” he finally said, blinking as Kanin’s avatar abruptly re-appeared. “Have you been informed about our situation?”

“Yes, Admiral. I’m currently discussing the finer details with Major Volkov at the moment, as we speak. He should be ready to execute the operation within the next half hour.”

“Good. Inform me the moment he does. In the meantime though?”

“Sir?”

Spaatz cleared his throat. “Send in the Marines.”

**XXXXX**

**Byzas, Thracia Province, Actium  
May 6, 2545  
1421**

**Marcus**

_"MARCUS, LOOK OUT!"_

_Marcus glanced over his shoulder to see a stream of radioactive green fire headed his way._

_And then everything went dark._

_The next thing he knew, he was being dragged against the ground._

_"FALL BACK, FALL BACK! ALL UNITS, FALL BACK!" someone was shouting in the background._

_"Hang on Marcus! Just hang on!" someone else yelled. Was that Dresden's voice?_

_"Oh shit! On your left!"_

_He felt hot brass beginning to pelt his body, but for some reason, the roar of the gunfire seemed to be coming from far away. The world began to spin before his very eyes before everything went dark once more._

_Marcus cracked open his eyes._

_His head was swaying left to right, like he was on a boat, but he couldn't smell any water. It took his addled brain more than a few seconds to realize what was going on: he was being supported by two people on either side of him. And both people were running._

_“Fuck, fuck, fuck!” someone was panting. Was that Orlović’s voice? “Theo, this guy is slowing us down! We gotta dump him, otherwise, we’re gonna get left behind!”_

_“Orlović, if this was you, you wouldn’t want us to ditch you!” someone else snarled. “We’re not leaving him!”_

_“Shit… fine, help me put him on my shoulders!”_

_“I can help carry– “_

_“Fuck you! With your fucking legs, it will be easier and faster if I carry him myself and you know it! Help me!”_

_“Alright, I – BEHIND YOU!”_

_Marcus suddenly felt himself falling before he abruptly hit the ground. Gunfire began ringing out above him, followed by the bone chilling roar of a Covenant Elite. He could hear the shuffling of feet, yelling, someone screaming in pain in the background, but he couldn’t tell what was going on. It was all too -_

Marcus abruptly woke up to the loud rumbling of thunder overhead. Grumbling to himself over his interrupted sleep, Marcus rolled over and tried to pull his blanket tighter against his body, only to hit something hard as he brought his hands to his chest. Cracking open his eyes in curiosity, he stared beady eyed at the full set of armor he was wearing.

What the…

His brain slowly making its way to full consciousness, Marcus blinked as a cloud of dust and plaster fell from the ceiling and, with a growing sense of dread, he abruptly realized that not only had the thunder _not_ stopped rumbling, the building itself was actually shaking.

Was that… was that not thunder he was hearing?

Feeling more than slightly alarmed, Marcus rolled out of the stretcher he’d been lying in (stretcher? Where was his bed?) and stumbled to his feet. The room was dark, but even then, Marcus could clearly tell he wasn’t in his bedroom at his parents’ house, nor in the Army barracks back at BCT or AIT.

Where the heck was he?

Blindly reaching out, Marcus tried to find the door but he had barely managed to take three steps before his shins smacked against something hard. Reaching down and wildly groping the air, Marcus felt himself grab a hold of something soft, like a blanket, and he instinctively pulled on it. As he did, he felt his hand brush against someone’s arm and he automatically froze.

The other person didn’t move.

Without thinking, Marcus bent over until he was canted over where he thought the other person’s head would be. He started to lean forward until he was almost face to face with the other person, and as he did, it suddenly occurred to him he hadn’t heard the other person breath, not even once this entire time. Just as that thought struck him though, Marcus got close enough that even in the dim light, he could make out the other person’s face, and he found himself staring straight into the cold, glazed over eyes of a dead man.

Or he would have been, if the other person wasn’t missing half their face.

“OHMYGOD!” Marcus squealed, jerking back in alarm, half expecting the other man to suddenly come back to life and tear a chunk of flesh from his throat. As he back away though, his legs got tangled up in his stretcher and he tripped, flipping over the bed. He crashed into another stretcher, which promptly collapsed, depositing its occupant right on top of Marcus, who found himself face to face with yet _another_ dead person, this time a woman.

Marcus screamed.

“GET IT OFF, GET IT OFF!” he wailed, wildly flailing. He managed to shove the body off of him, whereupon he drove the heel of his boot into the corpse’s face before scrambling backwards on his hands and knees as fast as he could, trying to put as much distance between him and the bodies.

He didn’t get far before he hit a wall and, using it for support, Marcus scrambled to his feet and looked around. At this point his eyes had gotten used to the dim light, so he was able to see that the two bodies he had run into had yet to move from where they were laying, but as he gazed across the room looking for a door, he realized those two bodies weren’t the only corpses in the room: there were at least another three stretchers, all of which were occupied.

He nervously swallowed. He was screwed.

As Marcus stood there, doing his best not to make a noise, he abruptly became consciously aware of the fact that the building – as well as the rumbling he had originally mistaken for thunder but was now realizing was probably artillery – was no longer shaking. In fact, everything seemed to have quieted down and he wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or not. But before he could figure it out, the wall right beside him abruptly opened up, causing light to come spilling into the room, before two people strolled inside. Marcus didn’t think: he let out a loud shriek of alarm.

“What the fuck?!?” the lead man yelped, clearly raising a rifle, but before he could point it in Marcus’s direction, the other man grabbed the muzzle and shoved it down.

“WHOA! Orlović, _hold your fire!_ That’s Marcus!”

The other man’s voice sounded vaguely familiar, but Marcus couldn’t be bothered to try and figure out why as he was too busy trying to make himself as small and unobtrusive as possible.

“Marcus. Marcus! Are you alright?”

It took Marcus a few seconds to realize the man was talking to him, but all Marcus could do was shake his head. He could hear the two men talking.

“What the fuck is wrong with him _this time?_ Is he pussying out again?”

“Orlović, go get the Doc.”

“What? But what about these bodies, Sarge? It’s not like we’ve got a lot of time to load them up – “

“PRIVATE! Go get Doc Westley, _now.”_

“Fuck. Alright, I’m going!”

Marcus could hear Orlović scurrying off, leaving him alone with the other man.

“Marcus,” he heard the man gently say. “Can you hear me? Can you look at me?”

Marcus took a moment to consider the question. Deciding there was no harm in the request, Marcus peeked over his arms, to see the man staring closely at him with a worried look on his face. At the sight of Marcus’s face, the man immediately smiled.

“There you are,” he gently said. “Marcus, do you remember who I am?”

Marcus immediately shook his head.

“Take your time. It'll come to you. Getting knocked unconscious sometimes affects your short term memory."

Marcus felt himself frowning. Clearly the man knew him, which meant he should recognize him, but for some reason, he just couldn’t –

“Sergeant,” Marcus suddenly remembered. “Sergeant Theo Dresden.”

Dresden gave another warm smile and nodded. “Yep. That’s me. You remember what happened?”

The pieces inside Marcus’s brain started falling into place as the day’s events began trickling back into his mind. Jets flying through the air, running civilians, the Covenant landings…

“There was a firefight!” he gasped.

He heard Dresden snort. “If that’s what you want to call it. I think I’ve been on campaigns that had less shooting than that, but I guess that’s one word for it.”

“The Covenant landed,” Marcus whispered to himself, barely paying attention to a word Dresden was saying. “They were attacking us and… and I…”

He reflexively cringed as he suddenly remembered what he had done, and he automatically glanced at Dresden in the hopes Dresden hadn’t noticed.

“You ran,” Dresden calmly finished, and even though there was no accusation or recrimination in his voice, Marcus still couldn’t prevent himself from flinching as if he’d been physically struck.

“I…” Marcus started, though in truth, he had no idea what to say. He had been hoping no one had seen what he had done. It was bad enough that he was able to remember what had happened, but another thing entirely to know someone else had witness his cowardice. On one hand, Marcus refused to feel ashamed for what he had done. He was no soldier, and he had never claimed to be. On the other hand… didn’t they shoot people for running away in battle?

“Hey,” Dresden said as he slowly crouched down to Marcus’s level and placed a consoling hand on his shoulder, perhaps misinterpreting the look on Marcus’s face. “These things happen.”

Marcus stared at him, not quite comprehending.

“You and Orlović… saved me? Carried me away from danger?” he whispered, memory fragments of when he was unconscious floating through his mind.

“…yes?” Dresden expectantly replied, as if he wasn’t sure what Marcus was getting at? Of course, truth be told, neither did Marcus.

“But… I ran…” Marcus said slowly, trying to piece his addled memories back together.

At that, Dresden’s confusion seemed to deepen.

“We weren’t going to leave you, Marcus,” Dresden slowly told him, sounding puzzled yet reassuring at the same time. “Not if we could have avoided it.”

At that, Marcus felt something twist inside of him, and he suddenly felt very ill. He immediately doubled over, causing Dresden to reflexively jerk back in alarm before producing a bucket from somewhere and placing it by Marcus as if he was going to be sick. However, it took Marcus a few second to realize the pain wasn’t _physical_ , but _emotional_ , as if…

Marcus blinked as Dresden was abruptly replaced by a random woman he had never seen before. In the dim light it was hard to make out her features, but there was no missing the bright red hair that was spilling out from underneath her beanie, as well the caduceus symbol imprinted on the forehead of her helmet.

“So, you _are_ alive,” she commented as she rummaged through what Marcus belatedly recognized as a med kit. He blinked.

“What?” he asked, unable to keep the uncertainty from his voice.

“You're alive,” the medic repeated. “When I got here, there were no other medics, so no one could tell me what your status was, or if you were even going to regain consciousness. I would have checked you out myself, but by that time we were under attack, and triage protocols dictated I had to deal with the less severely wounded first. Follow my light with your eyes, please.”

Marcus had to fight the urge to blink as a white pen light was abruptly shined in his eyes. All sorts of questions were floating around in his brain, but he decided to save them all until after the medic was done with whatever she was doing, and just focused on doing exactly as he was told.

“Alright, good,” the medic finally said as she put away the light.

“Sorry,” Marcus finally asked as he watched her make a note on her wrist mounted TACPAD. “Who are you?”

“Ginevra Westley, currently attached to 131st Engineer Battalion, 3rd Brigade, 222 Airborne Division,” the medic distractedly rattled off. “How's your breathing? Any chest pains? Or pain just in general?”

It took a moment for Marcus to realize she was addressing him once more, and he considered the question. Now that he was fully awake, Marcus was finally aware of just how much his head was throbbing, and he said as much.

“Yeah, that's to be expected,” Westley replied with a sigh. “Here, take these painkillers – should help.”

“So, Doc, what's the verdict?” Dresden abruptly asked, causing Marcus to jump as he had completely forgotten Dresden was there.

“Mild concussion. Probably a result of overpressure from an explosion,” Westley reported, and Marcus immediately called to mind dual streams of radioactive green headed in his direction.

“Does he need to be evacuated?”

“It doesn’t matter: either way, that's not going to happen,” Westley immediately replied. “Orders from the LT: unless he's got a sucking chest wound or about to drop dead in the next three seconds, all soldiers are to remain in the field. Guess we don’t have enough troops?”

“Its not like _Marcus_ will be able to help with that,” Orlović abruptly commented from the back of the room where he was preparing the bodies to be evacuated to the rear, and Marcus gave a start at how snide his comment had been. He opened his mouth to ask, but Westley beat him to it.

“What's his problem?” she asked, jerking her head at Orlović’s back.

“He needs a nap,” Dresden deadpanned, but quickly gestured at Marcus before anyone could say anything. “So, is he good to go?”

“As long as doesn’t get caught in any more explosions,” Westley commented. “I mean, if this was a hospital, I would say he needs twenty-four hours of bedrest and observation, but with the Covenant just a couple blocks away, we both know that's not going to happen, Sergeant, so I’ve done just about all I can.”

Dresden let out a sigh, sounding just as disappointed as Marcus did at the reply.

“Well, guess we should try and find you a helmet then, Marcus,” Dresden replied and Marcus belatedly realized his helmet was missing, more than likely having disappeared in the time he’d been unconscious. “Doc, I don’t suppose…?”

“I’m not exactly running a general store here, Sergeant, but… hang on. Private, you wear a medium?”

Before Marcus could reply, Westley abruptly hauled herself up to her feet and limped over to where Orlović was in the process of picking up one of the bodies. Marcus watched with morbid curiosity as Westley stopped him, before proceeding to calmly strip the corpse of his helmet.

“Here,” she said, tossing the headgear over to Marcus who reflexively caught it, only to almost immediately drop it when he felt how sticky it was. Marcus stared at her in shock, feeling both horrified and disturbed by her casual disrespect of the dead, however she didn’t seem to notice. Neither did Dresden, it seemed, as despite the grim look on his face, he didn’t say a word.

“Come on, Marcus, let's go find the LT,” he said instead, and Marcus was forced to run in order to catch up with him as they headed up a flight of stairs. As they ran, Marcus fumbled with the helmet in his hands, wearily eyeing it as he debated the merits of _not_ wearing it.

Distracted as he was, Marcus nearly fell on his face as they reached the top, and he looked around, finding himself in some sort of lobby area of a building. The lobby was a mess, with shattered windows and rubble covering the marble floor, however the interior was nothing compared to the sheer devastation outside.

Having woken up alone in a dark room with no frame of reference, Marcus hadn’t really had the chance to question just how long he'd been unconscious for. Looking outside though, made him wonder if he hadn’t actually been knocked out for a few days.

The entire street – and, just based on what he was seeing alone – the entire neighborhood had been absolutely devastated. Bullet holes, craters, plasma scoring, and scorch marks were everywhere, covering the roads, the streets, even the people. Every single window in the area had been shattered, entire buildings had been leveled, and the street was covered with burnt out wrecks of vehicles; civilian, military, Covenant, and otherwise. Not only that, Marcus also remembered the entire area being blanketed with a thick layer of snow; no more. Most of the snow was gone or turned into puddles, presumably having melted from all the superheated plasma and explosions from the artillery shells, mortars, and bombs that no doubt had been flying around.

Then, of course, there were all the bodies. Men, women, alien; there were corpses of all different shapes and sizes lying in the rubble, their bodies twisted and contorted in grotesques ways – if they had even been lucky to survive intact – the expressions on their faces forever frozen in a mask of pain. A fair amount of them were wearing UNSC uniforms, but fortunately the vast majority of them seemed to be dressed in the brightly colored armor of the Covenant Army. Even better the sight of all the dead aliens were the fact that there were very few bodies of civilians, at least from where Marcus was standing. He hoped that meant most of the civilians in the area had been evacuated or fled before the fighting had hit.

“Sarge? How long was I out for?” Marcus found himself asking.

“About four, four and a half hours,” Dresden distractedly replied and Marcus found himself gaping at that. It only took _four hours_ to devastate this city? “Come on.”

Dresden led him out onto the street where a large crowd of soldiers clad in a variety of uniforms were milling about. Marcus could see the white fatigues the local Actium garrison were wearing, the standard UNSC Army coyote brown BDUs some other unit was wearing - presumably the airborne unit Westley had mentioned being attached to – as well as a large amount of personnel wearing some sort of olive drab colored fatigue that looked very strange to Marcus, until he realized that was because they were UNSC Marines. The mixed unit was quickly making their way through the rubble, either busy recovering weapons and bodies, or working on assembling a roadblock, similar to the one Marcus remembered being forced to defend just before he was knocked out.

At that reminder, Marcus finally made up his mind in regards to his helmet and jammed it onto his head, doing his best not to let the disgust of where the helmet had been just a few minutes ago show up on his face. Not that it really mattered as Dresden wasn’t paying attention, as he was determinedly walking further down the block towards where a small group of soldiers and Marines had gathered.

Brushing past a trio of Marines carrying a rocket launcher, Marcus cautiously studied the scene in front of him. Standing in the center of the group were three men: based on their IFF tags, Marcus could tell there was one Marine staff sergeant, one Marine 2nd lieutenant, and one Army 1st lieutenant. The two officers appeared to be in the middle of some sort of standoff as they were staring daggers at one another, whereas the Marine staff sergeant merely looked bewildered.

“Lieutenant Lancelot!” Dresden called out and the Army lieutenant tilted his head in acknowledgement without breaking eye contact with the other officer.

“What is it, Sergeant Dresden?”

Marcus could see Dresden warily eyeing both officers as if they were a pair of wild animals, but nevertheless continued his report. “Sir, the last of the wounded and KIA are getting loaded onto the ‘Hogs for evacuation to the rear.”

Lancelot slowly nodded in acknowledgment.

“Get your shit together, 2nd Lieutenant,” he sneered, addressing his counterpart. “Before I do it for you.”

With that, the standoff abruptly ended, and Lancelot began barking out orders like the other man wasn’t there. “Staff Sergeant Reynolds?”

The Marine NCO immediately snapped his head up. “Sir?”

“Call up the combat engineers, Staff Sergeant. We’ve already wasted enough time: we got to move fast. Get your assaultmen over there to go toss a satchel charge into that building; might as well just take it down entirely, give us a clear field of fire.”

“With all due respect sir, wouldn’t it be better to wait for the Covies to attack? We could rig up a booby trap ‘stead of a satchel, wait til Covies come by, then drop the building on top of them and take out some of them shă bī,” Reynolds suggested, but Lancelot quickly shook his head.

“Unless things have changed since I left the Corps, they don’t teach assaultmen how to rig up something that elaborate,” Lancelot replied. “Plus, too many things could go wrong before we have a chance to set off the charge. No, our best bet is to just to blow the building now and move on.”

“Aye, Lieutenant.”

“Sergeant Restrepo!” Lancelot roared, and an Army sergeant wearing the white fatigues of one of the local garrisons stepped forward. “Push out forward elements and established a security perimeter to defend the Marines until they finish prepping that building for demo.”

“Already done, sir,” Restrepo immediately noted.

“Then pull back all heavy weapons and reestablish them on our new defensive line - we're pulling back one block.”

“Sir.”

“Sergeant Dresden!” Lancelot turned towards Dresden, but paused when he spotted Marcus. “Who the fuck are you?”

Marcus jumped when he realized Lancelot was addressing him, and he found himself immediately snapping to attention.

“Uh… me, sir? Uh, Private Marcus Olsen, reporting for duty, sir!”

He reflexively raised his hand to salute, but before he could complete the motion, Dresden grabbed his arm and forced it back down. Marcus glanced at him, curious, but Dresden didn’t even look at him. Meanwhile, Lancelot was giving him an annoyed look, but didn’t comment.

“This one of your men, Sergeant?” he demanded to know.

“Yes, sir,” Dresden replied.

“Control him better,” he insisted. “In the meantime, I want you and your men on ammo duty. There are a couple Marine Scorpions one block down getting ready to pull back. Go beg, borrow, and steal whatever ammo you can before they do; we're going to need it as we're going to be here for the long haul.”

“We're not pulling back, sir?”

Two pairs of eyes turned to stare at Marcus, and he felt his face start to warm up in embarrassment as he realized he had accidentally said that last part out loud. He quickly scrambled to explain. “That is to say, sir… I just though… well, if the Marines…”

“The Marines aren't here in force, Private, so they’re going to need our help. As long as Command doesn’t steal anymore of my men,” Lancelot muttered before fixing Marcus with a glare. “That going to be a problem for you, Private!?”

“No, sir!” Marcus automatically replied before realizing exactly what it was he was responding to. The thought of more fighting made Marcus shiver in fear.

“Good. See if you can’t pick up a rifle off the ground, there should be plenty of them. Otherwise – “

Whatever Lancelot was about to say next was suddenly interrupted by the sound of gunfire just down the street, followed by the growing whine of Covenant anti-gravity engines.

“We got incoming!” Lancelot roared, removing his hand from his radio. “Defensive positions! Find some cover! MOVE!”

“Come on, Marcus!” Dresden urged and Marcus found himself scrambling in his wake. “We gotta go!”

They took off down the street as more and more gunfire began to ring out. All the while, all Marcus could do was pray.

Pray that somehow, some way, he would live to see the end of the day.

“INCOMING!”

* * *

General Notes:

**POMCUS** : this was a real U.S. Army system. As mentioned here, the idea behind the system was to preposition equipment at certain locations in order to speed up deployment time, only in the U.S. Army's case, it was prepositioned in Europe (specifically Germany, Belgium, and the Netherlands,) and intended for use in the event the Soviet Union launched a conventional invasion of Europe. Obviously, with the end of the Cold War and the collapse of the Soviet Union, the system was never needed, and eventually disassembled.

POMCUS was intended to be used in conjunction with Exercise Reforger ( **re** turn of **for** ces to Germany,) though I’m not going to get into that here.

 **9th Marine Expeditionary Force** : the 9th MEF is actually a canon unit. It was mentioned in the official novel, _Halo: Contact Harvest,_ where it was then-Sergeant Avery Johnson's parent unit. Technically, given how closely model the UNSC Marine Corps is to the United States Marine Corps, the unit name should probably be written out as “IX MEF” (using Roman numerals, as opposed to Arabic numerals,) but for whatever reason it wasn’t.

 **Prototype Armor:** to be clear, Volkov referring to the armor Argon Team was/is wearing as “prototype armor” is intended to be a character error. The armor the Spartan team was wearing is nothing more than the regular Mjolnir Mark IV power armor which was the last version not to incorporate energy shields. Volkov refers to it as a prototype because he doesn’t know better.


	14. Welcome Back to the War

**Newington, Thracia Province, Actium  
May 6, 2545  
1530**

**Tariq**

**"INCOMING!"**

Without hesitation, Tariq grabbed hold of the ammunition specialist, and hauled him into the tank with him. And not a moment too soon.

**_KABOOM!_ **

Tariq flinched as the plasma mortar slammed into the Warthog, blowing it to kingdom come. Fortunately no one was inside it at the time, but it just went to show how close the Covenant mortars were getting.

“Son of a… that was fucking close!” he heard the specialist swearing. “Thank you!”

“Dude, you better get the fuck out of here,” Tariq warned. “We're sitting ducks out here!”

“Way ahead of you, Sarnt!” the specialist was already wriggling his way out of the hatch. “Good luck!”

Tariq didn't bother dignifying that comment with a response as he hurriedly checked to make sure all the shells he and specialist had been loading into the tank were all secure and in place. Making sure he had a full belt of ammo loaded into his coax, Tariq tossed himself back into his seat and grabbed his mic.

“Sir, ammo is locked and loaded,” he announced, just as he heard a hatch open and he looked further into the tank to see Koroma frantically scrambling back inside through the driver's hatch.

“Fuel tanks topped off and ready!” he breathlessly called out.

“Fuel is topped off, sir,” Tariq repeated over the radio for Buckley's benefit. “Tank is all ready to go!”

 _“Copy that,”_ Buckley replied. _“The rest of the platoon is reporting the same thing. Move it out, Sergeant, but don’t forget to swing by the CP and pick me up!”_

“Copy! We're on the move!” Tariq dropped his mic. “Driver, move it out! To the CP! Let’s go, double time it!”

In response, Koroma threw the tank into gear and slammed on the accelerator. There was a loud shriek as the tank lurched forward, nearly catching Tariq by surprise, but he was able to quickly stabilize himself.

“2-1 to 2-4: we're moving out, but we're gonna stop by the CP to pick up 2-6 first, over,” Tariq rattled off into the radio.

_“Copy that, 2-1. 2-4 is taking the rest of the platoon and headed for our position on the front. As soon as you have 2-6, join us there, over.”_

“Wilco, out!” Tariq lowered his radio and glanced through his periscopes. “Come on, Driver, you’re driving like you're a fucking grandpa. _Hurry it up!”_

They headed in the direction of the company command post, but before they could even travel more than a few dozen meters, there was a loud shriek overhead, followed by an explosion from somewhere behind them, and Tariq glanced back to see the parking lot they had _just_ been sitting in had just been obliterated by a plasma mortar.

“Fuck me,” he growled.

“These plasma mortars are getting out of control, Sergeant!” Koroma yelled from his spot at the front of the tank. “How come we don’t have any counter battery!?”

“We gotta find the damn mortars first and for that, you can blame the damn Navy!” Tariq retorted. “As soon as that fucking cruiser settled over the city, we lost all our air support. Then, I guess because they figured we weren't using them at the moment, the Navy proceeded to strip away all ground-based fighter jets, so even though that cruiser is now gone, none of our surveillance planes and rotary aircraft can get back into the air because they have no cover! We’re fighting blind until we wrestle air superiority back!”

“Fuck!”

“You can say that again,” Tariq muttered under his breath as they pulled up next to the building their forward support company had commandeered to use as their command post. Looking around, Tariq at first couldn’t see Buckley, but then he emerged from around a pile of sandbags and began running towards the tank at a dead sprint. “Driver, halt!”

As the tank rumbled to a halt, Tariq hurriedly climbed out of his seat to pop open the commander’s hatch. Almost immediately afterwards, Buckley dove headfirst into the tank, dust and smoke trailing him as another mortar detonated nearby.

“Motherfuckers!” Buckley growled as he slammed his hatch shut. “Alright, I’m in!”

“Driver, move it out!” Tariq immediately commanded. “To the front!”

The entire tank suddenly and violently shook as a plasma mortar slammed into the building next to them, causing the entire front face to explode outwards and shower the vehicle with debris.

“Fucking, fuck, fucks!” Tariq snarled.

“Very eloquent, Sergeant Helmand,” he heard Buckley amusedly say above him.

“With all due respect, sir, shut the fuck up,” Tariq retorted, far too stressed by the situation to even care about trying to recover his sense of humor. Fortunately, Buckley wasn't offended.

“Hey, at least it could be worse!” Buckley announced with false cheer. “Instead of being bombarded, we could be under heavy attack right now.”

“I would rather the Covenant have the balls to hit us head on right now, sir, because then I could at least have something to shoot back at!”

Out of the corner of his eye, Tariq could see Buckley tilting his head in acknowledgement of the validity of his statement, but didn’t reply as he had grabbed his radio.

“Cataphract, this is 2-1: my platoon is fueled up and loaded,” Buckley declared. “We're moving back to the front, over.”

_“Copy that, 2-1. As soon as you’re in place, let me know so I can pull Cataphract-3 back and let them resupply.”_

“Roger that, Cataphract. Interrogative: any sign of Covenant advance?”

_“Negative, no ground troops, just IDF. According to intel from DIVHQ, Covenant have halted their advance south, and turned the weight of their attack to Byzas itself, though that could potentially change at any second, over.”_

“Understood. Thank you. Cataphract-2, out.”

“I thought we were cut off from division headquarters?” Tariq inquired as soon as he heard Buckley lower his radio.

“Well, with the bulk of the Covenant Army sitting between us and the rest of the 53rd, we are physically cut off, but we still have sporadic comms. See how long that last, though. Driver, take a right here!”

Tariq twitched as Koroma jammed the tank to a stop in their assigned position behind a solid looking apartment complex at the top of a small hill. Ignoring as yet another mortar went off nearby, he checked his scopes and his periscopes to make sure he had good, clean fields of fire, then glanced over the town of Newington.

Fighting had been on and off for the last five hours, as neither the UNSC nor the Covenant had had the strength or numbers for sustained combat. Once the Covenant realized the UNSC was dug in pretty tight, they had mostly reduced their offensive to probing attacks, indirect fire missions, and sniper fire. As a result, the town of Newington had remained mostly intact. Unlike Byzas…

Looking off towards the horizon, Tariq could almost make out the skyscrapers that consisted the majority of downtown Byzas. Even from this distance, the giant cloud of smoke sat like a blight over the city from all the buildings and vehicles undoubtedly burning, and every now and then, Tariq could make out the flash of yet another explosion. From the sporadic reports they were picking from their sister brigades deployed in the city, fighting was fierce and unrelenting. In some ways, Tariq sympathized with his 1st and 4th Brigade brothers and sisters. At the same time, he couldn’t help but be glad it wasn’t _his_ ass in the fire; urban combat in a tank sucked, no matter how you looked at it.

“Cataphract, 2-1: be advised, we are in position on the MLR, over.” Without waiting for a response, Buckley lowered his radio and called out, “Alright guys, keep a sharp eye out for infiltrators! I’m going up top – see if I can't spot where this damn indirect is coming from and get them to stop!”

“Try not to get your head blown off, LT!” Tariq called out.

“Come on, Sarnt,” Buckley joked. “My face is too pretty for the Covenant to shoot!”

Just as Buckley said that, another mortar went off nearby, and Tariq heard the distinct sound of shrapnel bouncing off the top of Buckley’s hatch. He gave Buckley a pointed look.

“Alright, I’ll be careful,” Buckley sheepishly replied. “Stay sharp!”

With that, the top half of his body disappeared out of the hatch.

Easing himself back into his seat, Tariq took a deep breath and let it out slowly in attempt to calm himself down. When that didn’t work, he grabbed a pinch of chewing tobacco and shoved it into his mouth, immediately feeling the rush of nicotine through his veins.

“You know, that stuff will probably kill you one day,” he heard Koroma suddenly comment, and he let out a loud derisive snort.

“Kid, around here, I’ll be _lucky_ if I survive long enough for my smoking and boozing to kill me,” he bluntly noted.

Koroma didn’t seem to have a response to that as he remained quiet for a few moments, and Tariq took the opportunity to stare at his screens, watching as plasma mortar after plasma rise up from somewhere in the distance, lazily arch through the air, before crashing back down to the ground somewhere nearby.

“Man, if the Covenant aren’t attacking, you think now would be a good time for _us_ to go on the offensive,” Koroma abruptly noted.

Tariq immediately let out an aggravated sigh.

“Dude, if I’ve told you once, I’ve told you a thousand times already: we can’t go on the offensive because we've got less than twenty-five hundred combat troops trying to cover an MLR that’s about a hundred fifty kilometers in length. We've got no defense in depth, barely enough ammo to throw back a Covenant attack larger than regimental size, and won't until reinforcements from the south arrive in a couple of hours!” Tariq snarled. “Why the fuck do you want to attack the Covenant so badly!?!?”

For the moment, there was nothing but silence from Koroma, and Tariq took that moment to check his scopes again. Then, in a quiet voice, Koroma finally said, “The Covenant glassed my homeworld.”

“Join the fucking club,” Tariq bitterly retorted. “You aren't the only one around here who's lost their home planet; hell, the fucking 337th used to be a New Constantinople regiment until the fucking Covenant glassed that colony back in 37. But you don’t see those guys bitching and moaning.”

There was a noticeable pause, before Koroma hesitantly asked, “Is that where you’re from? New Constantinople?”

Tariq rolled his eyes. “The fuck is it to you!?”

He could see Koroma raising his hands in a placating gesture. “I’m just trying to learn a bit more about my teammates, is all. I mean no offense.”

“Don't!” Tariq aggressively warned. “No one gives a shit about you, or your shitty questions- “

It started with a tremor. At first, Tariq thought he was just getting agitated so he took another deep breath but when the tremors started turning into full blown shaking, Tariq suddenly realized it wasn’t him, but the ground.

“What the – “

Tariq glanced through his scope in time to see one of the skyscrapers in the distance abruptly collapse as the ground beneath it suddenly gave way. Seconds later, Tariq heard it: the full throated roar of an explosion. He and Koroma exchanged a startled look as the radio exploded with chatter.

“The hell was that…?”

“Holy shit!” Buckley exclaimed as he ducked back inside, his hand pressing his radio against his ear. “Division just blew up the entire Byzas subway system!”

Tariq gaped at him. “Why the fuck- “

“CONTACT FRONT!” Koroma screamed.

Tariq jerked as Koroma jammed the tank into gear, reversing the tank behind the building as a fuel rod cannon streaked through the open space they were just occupying. He grabbed his controls and looked around wildly just as Buckley screamed, “Covenant Assault Wraith! Coming up the MSR! Gunner, load up two rounds of HEAT and make ready!”

Tariq hurriedly flicked off the safety while making sure he had the appropriate shells loaded. “Gun ready!”

“Standby! Driver, forward!”

Tariq pivoted his turret around as the tank cleared the apartment building, and watched as his crosshairs flashed red.

“FIRE!”

“ON THE WAY!”

The tank shook as both barrels recoiled, and Tariq had just barely enough times to see two small holes outlined by orange molten metal appear in the Wraith’s hull before the Covenant vanished in a bright blue explosion.

“Target destroyed! Shift fire right!”

Tariq impatiently tapped his foot against the ground as he waited for his autoloaders to finish, but even as the Covenant began returning fire, a single thought continued to float through Tariq's brain:

What the hell was going on in the city?

**XXXXX**

**Covenant designated Landing Zone: Deliverance  
Forerunner Designated World: MS 222-53 a  
9th Age of Reclamation  
6th Cycle of the Planet’s Rotation**

**Zek**

Concrete and glass. That's all Zek saw, no matter which way he looked. It almost a nightmare, really. As a poor Ruuhtian that had grown up on the outskirts of Tilu City, Zek was used to the sight of massive sprawling cities and towering buildings. But the humans seemed to take it to new heights.

Dull gray and tinted glass, as far as the eye could. Not even a hint of turquoise. And the weather? Ice and snow covered the ground, making travel somewhat of a treacherous chore. Whenever the wind blew, it cut right through Zek's armor and uniform, chilling him to the bone despite his best efforts. And the skies were dark and overcast, as if the Sky Mother couldn't bear to see what sort of damage these humans had done to her beautiful world.

In short, Zek couldn't understand how these humans could tolerate living in this cold, desolate place.

"I don't know: I kind of like it."

Zek reflexively jumped at the sound of Rezan's voice. Zek hadn't realized he had spoken that last part out loud.

"You _like_ it?" Zek echoed once he was able to recover his wits. "You're telling me you like all this? How?"

He could see Rezan tilting his head in a shrug. "I don't know. I guess there's a certain ruthless practicality to the way this city is built." He gestured at the roads. "See how the roads are all laid out in a grid-like pattern?"

"But that's so dull," Zek protested. "Where's the aesthetic appeal?"

"Function over looks," Rezan reminded him. "As long as it works, who cares what it looks like?"

"Yes, but the humans live here, don't they?" Zek retorted. "Why wouldn't a living being try to make the place they live in more visually appealing? Who would want to life like that?"

"I wouldn't mind," Rezan admitted.

"You would, would you?" Zek noted, narrowing his eyes. "Are you sure you're a Ruuhtian and not a T'vaoan?"

Rezan whirled on him. "You take that back!" he hissed, though without any real heat in his voice. Zek bared his teeth in amusement and shook his head, causing Rezan to turn away in a huff.

Zek quickly casted around, trying to think of something to say in order to continue this moment of levity, but unfortunately nothing came to mind and the moment was lost, and Zek was left with trying _not_ to think about the one subject he couldn't help _but_ think about: his and Rezan's survival from the _Hammer of Justice._

In truth, there wasn't much _for_ Zek to think about. As soon as he saw that Unggoy reaching for the bomb the Demons had left behind, instinct had taken over. He remembered grabbing Rezan with a strength he hadn't known he had possessed and dragging him over to the escape pods, all the while thanking the gods he and Rezan had been manning Security Station Salvation that day as Salvation was perhaps the _only_ security station on the ship that was positioned right next to an escape pod.

As the ship began to rumble, Zek remembered throwing Rezan into the escape pod and hurtling himself in afterwards, hitting the button to close the door with his foot as he did. As flames began enveloping the corridor, Zek remembered punching the launch button so hard, he had actually cracked it. After that though, everything was one giant blur.

Zek vaguely remembered watching as the _Hammer_ simply disintegrated behind them. He vaguely remembered watching as the rest of the fleet began to make a retreat. He vaguely remembered making sure to reset the autopilot so that it would take them to the landing zone instead of anywhere else on the planet, where they would hopefully have been rescued by friendly forces. And then, after that, Zek couldn't remember anything else. He couldn't remember entering the planet's atmosphere. He couldn't remember the landing. And most importantly, he couldn't remember getting knocked out.

Unfortunately, what Zek _could_ remember, with absolute clarity, was the feeling of terror he had when he and Rezan first spotted the Demons, lurking in the corridors of their ship. He remembered the growing sense of dread as he watched as the Demons _butchered_ their way through the ship on their way to their objective.

But most importantly, Zek remembered the growing sense of dread as he realized that nothing; security teams, bulkhead doors, even Kamet himself; could stop the Demons from going wherever they wanted. The only consolation Zek had was the fact that because that stupid Unggoy had accidentally set the Demons' bomb off early, there was no way the Demons could have made it off the _Hammer_ before the ship was destroyed.

Still, despite knowing the Demons were dead, Zek was sure he was going to have many a sleepless night in the coming months ahead, forever haunted by the sight of the Demons cutting through his comrades like they were nothing more than insects to be crushed underfoot.

Zek felt a shiver go down his spine, and it had nothing to do with the cold. He nervously glanced over his shoulder, as if a Demon would suddenly leap out from the nearby building.

"What is it Zek, did you see something?"

Zek quickly shook his head to assure Rezan. "No; it was but a figment of my imagination," he admitted.

Rezan visibly relaxed. "Yes, this area is not very safe. Come on: we're very near the firebase. Hopefully things will be better once we are around our comrades."

Zek nodded in agreement.

Despite having landed in what was supposed to be friendly controlled territory, the area was far from safe, as Zek and Rezan had learned when they first emerged from the escape pod and something shot at them. Not being armed themselves, they had been forced to hide until whatever took a shot at them got bored and left. Afterwards, Zek and Rezan had been left wondering what to do.

Fortunately, Rezan had had the good sense to grab a communicator before they had abandoned the ship and as a result, they were able to learn there was actually a friendly firebase not too far away from where they had landed. It had been set up in one of the human structures, a building that was dedicated to the human's past. What did the humans call them? Not a shrine but a... museum. That's right.

Zek could only hope that not only would the base have plenty of guards and defenses, it would at least be _warm_ so he could finally get out this cursed cold.

"Come Zek! It should just be around this corner!" Rezan shouted, and Zek couldn't help but pick up his pace. Just a few more steps and Zek could finally feel safe again -

Zek skittered to an abrupt halt at the sight that laid in front of them.

"No..."

"What in seven hells has occurred here!?"

Right in front of them was a human building that had been completely destroyed, sitting in the exact place the firebase should have been. Two Type-44 troop carriers were parked on the ground nearby with their doors open, and all sorts of Covenant warriors were running to and from the ships and the wreckage. As Zek and Rezan got closer, they could see the warriors were digging through the rubble of the building. Already they had extracted a number of trapped warriors from within, but even then, Zek could see several dozen bodies of Kig-Yar and Unggoy sticking out from the rocks.

"Gods..." Rezan whispered. "What has happened here?"

"I don’t know, but let us find out," Zek said, pointing at a fellow Ruuhtian sitting on a gravity stool nearby.

"Brother!" Zek called out, causing the Ruuhtian to turn in their direction. As he did, Zek faltered as he realized the Ruuhtian was completely covered in dust, and was bleeding from several wounds, the most devastating of which was his left arm: from the elbow down, it was completely missing.

Realizing he was staring, Zek quickly gathered his thoughts.

"Brother, what has happened here?" Zek asked.

The Ruuhtian dipped his head, allowed some blood to drip out from his mouth.

"The thrice damned humans were able to infiltrate our bases before our defenses were fully established," the Ruuhtian gravely growled. "And were thus able to drop bombs with impunity on us. They were able to destroy much of the base before many of our brethren even knew we were under attack. Curse those cowardly humans!"

"How many dead and wounded are there?" Rezan asked, sounding shocked.

"I do not know," the Ruuhtian replied. "But I do know my entire Lance was destroyed, including by blood brother, who was killed by falling debris right next to me!" The Ruuhtian's head snapped back, and Zek could see how much in mourning this Ruuhtian was. "Sky Mother knows, I tried to save him, but there was nothing I could do! One moment, he was there, the next, nothing! There was nothing I could do!"

The Ruuhtian started warbling, and Zek cautiously reached out to awkwardly rub the Ruuhtian on the back, making sure not to aggravate any of his wounds. Zek suddenly remembered he had some khat in his armor pouch, and he hastily pulled it out to give to the Ruuhtian.

"Here Brother," Zek said, "take this. You have earned it."

"Many thanks Brother," the Ruuhtian mournfully said as he took the offered khat and threw some into his mouth.

"ALL WOUNDED, BEGIN BOARDING NOW!"

Zek and Rezan hastily moved out of the way as the Ruuhtian struggled to climb to his feet.

"Brother, do you require assistance?" Rezan hurriedly asked as he and Zek watched the Ruuhtian awkwardly start to make his way towards one of the ships.

"Nay Brother, it is not my injuries that stay my feet, but that of my failure to protect my blood brother," the Ruuhtian sadly said. "For this great journey, I must make on my own."

Zek nodded in understanding and stood back as to not be in his way.

"Wait Brother!" Rezan called out. "Your weapons!"

He pointed at the spot next to where the Ruuhtian had sat. There, laying on the ground, was a single Type-51 carbine and Type-25 plasma pistol.

"Take them," the Ruuhtian said without looking back. "For I shall not be needing them where I am heading. Take care Brothers. May the Sky Mother and all the Gods above watch over you."

Zek and Rezan quietly watched as the Ruuhtian painfully made his way towards the assault boat. As soon as the Ruuhtian disappeared inside, Zek turned and glanced at the weapons he had left behind. After a moment of awkward silence, Zek mentally shrugged before he reached out and grabbed the carbine off the ground. Looking it over, Zek was glad to see that not only was the weapon fully loaded and intact, it also had a number of spare cartridges, all of which Zek immediately pocketed.

"Well," Rezan began as he lifted the pistol. "Now what?"

Zek thought the question over. Now that he was armed, he felt a lot more confident, but he was no leader. And with no Sangheili in sight to give them orders, Zek had no idea what to do.

"I suppose we should help out with the rescue," Zek finally said.

With no other suggestions, Rezan quickly signaled his agreement, and the two of them started to make their way towards the rubble. But as they passed one building that was still intact, they heard a scream of pain coming from within.

Zek and Rezan exchanged looks. It wasn't a scream from any of the Covenant races, of that much he was certain, but other than that, Zek couldn't figure out what it would have come from.

Without saying a word, the two of them turned and entered to the room to see -

\- a cursed human. It was clearly one of the human warriors, as the alien was wearing the colors of the human's UNSC, but this one was without its weapons or armor. Surrounding the human were three Unggoy: two Minors and a single Major. The three Unggoy were all armed with sharp metal sticks, probably pulled directly from the wreckage, and were jabbing the human all across its body.

"Stupid human!" one of the Minors yelled, kicking the human hard in the face and causing the human to spit out a large amount of blood.

"Not so tough now, huh!?" the other Minor yelled as he brought his stick down hard on the human's arm. Zek could hear something cracking and the human screamed out loud.

As the human laid there, groaning, the Major gestured for the two Minors to pick the human up.

"This is for my Brothers!" the Major yelled, before driving his stick into the human's leg. The human screamed in pain once more as the Major gave the stick a good twist before yanking it out, and looking more closely, Zek could see half a dozen more cuts like that one spread across its body.

Laughing, the Unggoy forcefully tossed the human to the ground, who started to try to crawl away.

"Look at the worm crawl!" one of the Unggoy jeered.

"In the dirt, like all insects belong!" another one yelled.

Viciously stabbing the human in the foot and pinning it to the ground, the Major grabbed the human by its mane and pulled hard, yanking some of the hair out.

"We should cut off its reproductive organs and shove it down its throat!" the Major yelled, to the cheers of his men.

Watching the abuse go down, Zek couldn't help but give an indifferent shrug. While he wasn't one to advocate creatures playing with their food like that, humans _were_ heretics. Plus, one thing Zek had learned over the seasons was that the key to controlling the Unggoy was to let them have their fun every once in a while.

Zek stared to turn away.

_FWOOZ!_

At the sound of a plasma pistol discharging, Zek jumped and whirled around, his carbine raised and ready for action. Instead, all he saw was the human lying on the ground, dead, with a single plasma bolt through its head.

Zek glanced at the Unggoy to see which one of them had fired the shot, only to see all three of them were staring _at him_ , with furious looks on their face.

Voi paska.

Very slowly, Zek turned around. Standing behind him was Rezan, his plasma pistol raised, and a look of horror and disgust on his face. It was Rezan who had shot the human.

Great.

"You - !" the Major began, shaking with absolute fury. "Why you shoot my prisoner!?!?"

Zek glanced at Rezan, who was staring at the Major with a look of absolute disgust on his face.

"Because this," Rezan pointed at the human’s rapidly cooling corpse on the ground, "is not the way of a Covenant Warrior! We do not torture our enemies! Kill them, yes, but what we are doing is a mercy! What you ryökäles were doing is the opposite of mercy!"

"They Heretics!" the Major screamed back. "The San'Shyuum say we can do what we want with Heretics, and no big bully like you say otherwise!" The Major's eyes narrowed. "Unless _you_ a heretic."

At that, Zek's head snapped up. He might not have agreed with what Rezan did, but he'd be cursed if he let an _Unggoy_ talk to him like that.

"You watch your mouth, Unggoy," Zek growled in warning, but in a surprising move of defiance for an Unggoy, the Major whirled around on him and sneered.

"What you gonna do 'bout it," the Major taunted. "Heretic?"

Zek punched him, hard across the face, with enough force to knock him to the ground. The other Unggoy let out a squeak of alarm and started to draw their weapons, but before they could, Rezan fired three shots into the ground by their feet.

"Don't,” he warned, "even think about it."

In the meantime, Zek had planted his foot into the back of the Major, making sure to dig his claws into the Major's flesh.

"You Unggoy," he began, "need to remember your place in this Covenant."

Reaching down, Zek calmly ripped the Major's mask right off his face and tossed it across the room, causing the pathetic creature to begin gasping out loud in panic as he tried to draw breath, but only finding poisonous oxygen filling his lungs.

Bending over slowly, Zek place his mouth by the Major's ear. "You Unggoy are beneath us. Forever and always. _Never_ forget that," he hissed.

"And you Kig-Yar are beneath _us_!"

Zek stiffened, and immediately straightened. Strolling into the room was a single Sangheili Evocatus, much to Zek's horror.

The Sangheili casted a critical eye around the room, and Zek hastily moved away from the Unggoy Major still gasping for breath on the ground. Zek could see the Sangheili staring at the corpse of the human lying on the ground, but unfortunately Zek couldn't tell what the Sangheili was thinking.

"Who shot the heretic!?" the Sangheili demanded.

Before Zek could say anything, Rezan took one step forward. "I did, sire."

"But I authorized it," Zek quickly said. He didn't know what Rezan was thinking, volunteering that information like that, but Zek had no intention of allowing Rezan to get himself in trouble.

"No he did not, sire," Rezan immediately said, much to Zek's annoyance. "My actions were undertaken alone and by my own initiative."

"Rezan, shut up," Zek muttered out of the side of his mouth.

"Zek, you shut up. You had nothing to do with this."

"I'll be able to handle this Rezan, but only if you shut up!"

"This is my problem Zek, you need not - "

"SILENCE!" the Sangheili roared, causing Zek to jump in alarm. "You, Kig-Yar," he pointed at Zek, "silence! You, Kig-Yar," he pointed at Rezan, "will explain why you executed that human. And you, Unggoy," the Sangheili abruptly pulled out his plasma rifle and calmly shot the still gasping Unggoy Major once through the back of his head. "Die in silence."

The room was very quiet after that.

Slowly strolling forward until he was standing right in front of Rezan, the Sangheili growled, "Explain. Now."

"The Unggoy were torturing the human sire," Rezan quickly said. "As the Ones Most Holy have often said sire, our Crusade against the humans is but a mercy, to free them from this heretical life their leaders have imposed on them. Torture, sire, is not a mercy."

"So you decided to kill a human," the Sangheili growled, "contrary to my commands that all humans were to be taken _alive!?_ Explain yourself!"

That caught Zek's attention. Since when were they taking human prisoners?

Out of the corner of his eye, Zek could see a look of fear finally appearing on Rezan's face as Rezan finally realized how badly he had screwed up.

"Sire, we... I mean I..." Rezan spurted. "I can only claim ignorance sire. We are not part of the vanguard Legion sire, and thus, we never received your commands."

"And what Legion are you a part of, Kig-Yar?" the Sangheili growled.

"We are part of the Fleet, sire. We were assigned to the _Hammer of Justice_."

For some reason, that last part seemed to catch the Sangheili's attention.

" _Hammer of Justice_ ," the Sangheili echoed. "That was the most Holy ship that was defiled by the Demons, was it not!?"

Zek couldn't prevent the shudder that passed through him at that reminder. "Yes, sire, it was," he reluctantly reported.

"And did you see these Demons?"

Both Zek and Rezan bobbed their heads. "Yes sire, we did."

"Then you will describe them to me, in great detail!"

Zek couldn't help but exchange a look of confusion with Rezan.

"Most Noble One," Zek began. "Please forgive my impudence, but why? The Demons are dead."

"No, they are not."

"What!?" Zek reflexively spat out, but then cringed at the insubordinate tone in his voice. Fortunately, the Sangheili didn't seem to notice.

"The Demons are here, inside this city," the Sangheili announced. "And I intend to present their heads myself to the High Prophets. Which is why all humans are to be taken _alive_ and _intact!_ " the Sangheili bellowed, glaring at both Rezan and the two remaining Unggoy.

"As you will sire!" Zek reflexively bellowed at the top of his lungs. The Sangheili gave a single nod of approval.

"Gather your weapons my Warriors," he commanded. "We resume our hunt, NOW!"

With that, the Sangheili marched out of the room, leaving Zek stunned. He couldn't figure out what was worse: the fact the Demons somehow had managed to survive the destruction of the _Hammer_ -

\- or that he was going to go _looking_ for them.

Zek could only hope this little hunt of the Sangheili wasn’t drawing resources away from the _real_ mission.

* * *

Author’s Note

Covenant Designations:

**"Covenant designated Landing Zone: Deliverance"**

I think this is pretty self-explanatory, but 'Deliverance' would be the Covenant name for their landing site. Given the naming conventions of Covenant ships, it seems to me the Covenant are big on giving their stuff grandiose and religiously themed names. So, while the UNSC gives their LZs some rather generic designations like "LZ X-Ray" of "LZ Echo," I imagine the Covenant would call them stuff like "Salvation," "Justice," or "Righteousness."

**"Forerunner Designated World: MS 222-53 a"**

Actium is obviously the name for this planet (which is a canon colony, in case readers didn't know that; in fact, this entire battle is a canon battle, even if the finer details aren't,) but that would be the human name for it and I just don't see the Covenant knowing or even caring about that. Which led me to ask: what would the Covenant call this planet?

As part of developing the backstory of this story, I figured the only reason the Covenant knew about this planet, yet not know it was a human colony, was because they found the location in a Forerunner database. Because of that, I figured the Covenant would simply refer to the planet using the same designation the Forerunners would have given it. Of course, there is no canon Forerunner designation for Actium, so I needed to make it up myself.

The Forerunner designation itself was a bit tricky as there are only three Forerunner planets in canon so far that utilizes a similar naming convention: LP 656-38 e, CE-10-2165-d, and DM-3-1123-b. I'm sure in canon, the Forerunners had an entire system behind their designations (MS would perhaps designate the type of star the system was centered around perhaps, 222-53 might represent the number of astrological bodies located in the system itself or something of that nature, and I know the 'a' represented which planet in the system it was, with 'a' being the closest to the star,) but unless it comes up again, I doubt I’ll try and explore too deeply into that sort of thing.

**"9th Age of Reclamation"**

This is the only canon thing here. The 9th Age of Reclamation is the Covenant designated period that encompasses the entire period of the Human-Covenant War.

**“6th Cycle of the Planet's Rotation"**

This last part was tricky as I wanted to give a time, but I also wanted to be different and not use "hours" and "minutes." I debated "borrowing" from other sci-fi series (like Farscape, which uses "arn" and "microt" as their designations,) but I decided I didn't like that idea and wanted to create my own.

It's a fairly simplistic system, I think. Using the same idea that hours are based on the time it takes for the Earth to make a full rotation on its axis, I figured the Covenant would do something similar but instead of "hours," they would call them "cycles." I figured one "cycle" would probably be equal to about three hours, and given that I decided a while back that Actium would have 36 hour days (35.5 to exact, but rounded up; yes, this seemed like a good idea at the time; no, it turns out it really wasn't,) that means on the Covenant clock, Actium has twelve "cycles."

 **Khat** : this is actually a real life plant native to the Horn of Africa and the Arabian Peninsula that’s used as a stimulant drug. Similar to tobacco, khat is normally chewed, but when dried, it can also be smoked as well as used in tea.

 **Evocatus:** this is evidently another name for the Elite rank of “Ultra”


	15. The Air War

**Low Orbit, Actium  
May 6, 2545  
1830**

**Zelda**

Zelda abruptly jerked awake at the soft chime his HUD let out to inform him his fuel tanks were full. That wasn't what bothered him. What bothered him was the fact he didn't remember falling asleep in the first place. Which meant the energy drink he had downed about an hour ago had finally been flushed out of his system. And seeing as how that had been his last one, he was now officially shit out of luck.

Adjusting himself as best as he could in his confined seat, Zelda groaned and slapped himself across his visor, trying his best to shake off his exhaustion. Ever since that Covenant battlecruiser had been blown up by some mysterious force nearly seven hours ago, a stalemate had emerged in orbit. At least, that's what _some_ people would have called it, but not Zelda. Because while all the warships were keeping their distance, watching each other like hawks but making sure not engage each other, all the small craft like Zelda's squadron of Broadswords were very much active. Undergoing reconnaissance operations, providing dropship escorts, fighting off Covenant probing attacks, and just in general, staying active so some asshole with stars on their shoulder boards could hold a press conference and say with a straight face they were doing something, rather than just sitting around idly. Zelda had been fighting almost non-stop these last several hours and he had to admit, he was reaching his breaking point

But of course, that wasn’t even the worse part. The worse part was just how little support they were getting from Command.

Take this refueling center for example. It wasn't even a military one, but a civilian one because Command "didn't want to risk another aircraft carrier by moving it out of position." That was all good and all, but as this civilian platform wasn't designed for military use, refueling the entire squadron, even as depleted as it was, was taking forever. Furthermore, for obvious reasons, there was no way for Zelda to rearm while he got refueled. At this point, Zelda was completely out of munitions for his external hardpoints. It wasn't the worst thing in the world as Zelda's internal reserves were still full, however it was just another sign of how much Zelda and his squadron were getting screwed over.

_"Sir? You're full. Please detach and move out of the way for the next plane."_

Zelda felt a massive surge of anger abruptly well up in him.

"I'll take as much fucking time as I want you fucking prick!" he snapped.

Unfortunately for him, in his exhaustion, Zelda forgot to hit the talk button on his radio and as a result, his intended recipient, the fuel attendant, didn't hear him. By the time Zelda realized that, a Marine Pelican gunship was already maneuvering in and not wanting his fighter to get hit by a bunch of fucking jarheads, Zelda activated his thrusters and moved out of the way.

Angling his fighter in the direction his squadron was gathering, Zelda sat there, fuming.

_"Zelda."_

Zelda growled and was half tempted to ignore the call on his radio, but he knew if he did that, Odessa would just keep calling him. With a reluctant sigh, Zelda hit his talk button.

"What." he said bluntly.

_"Eat an energy bar."_

"...what?"

 _"I can practically hear your teeth grinding from here,"_ Odessa explained. _"You get all pissy when you're hungry, so go eat something."_

" _You_ go eat an energy bar," Zelda snapped back. "I'm not pissy because I'm hungry, I'm pissy because I'm freaking tired."

" _Well, that's to be expected,"_ Odessa cheerfully replied and Zelda could practically hear him shrug his shoulders. " _That's what happens when you don't get a full night's rest. Should have told your, ah, 'bed companion' to leave you alone."_

“Hey! I'll have you know **I** was the one keeping her up, not the other way around!”

“ _And… somehow that makes it better?”_

“Yeah! It uh… I mean…” Zelda started to sputter as he realized he didn't actually know what he had meant.

_“…you have no idea where you were going with that, did you?”_

“Shut up.”

 _“See? Lack of sleep will get you every time,”_ Odessa teased.

_“All Omega pilots, rally on me.”_

“Yeah?” Zelda retorted as he ignited his thrusters and started to head over to where Bellum was. “Well, we can't all be sniffing glue to stay awake like you do.”

All Odessa did was snort in amusement.

As he flew to the rallying point, Zelda couldn’t help but feel a bit grateful Odessa was around. All of their banter served more of a purpose than simple fun: it was actually helping Zelda wake up, though, unfortunately, not completely. As Zelda pulled to a stop near Bellum, he let out a loud yawn as he waited to see what their next bullshit assignment was going to be.

 _"Okay guys, hope you're all awake because you're going to want to be alert for this next part,"_ Bellum declared as soon as everyone had arrived. _"So, here's the situation: apparently some ground unit was able to make contact with Command and request an evac for a whole ton of civilians. Command has agreed and is sending in some Pelicans. But here's the thing: evacuation site in the middle of Covenant occupied territory."_

 _"A bunch of civilians were able to survive this long behind enemy lines?"_ Odessa asked, surprised.

_"Apparently."_

"That sounds fishy as fuck," Zelda immediately interjected. "We sure this is a legitimate call?"

 _"It’s actually not as unusual as you might think,"_ Bellum pointed out. _"You have to remember, planetside invasions are chaotic as hell already and that's before you throw in local resistance, unknown terrain, etc. Between establishing a beachhead, landing enough troops to hold said beachhead, and building up enough supplies for the subsequent operation, it can be hard to ensure a landing site that's a hundred percent secured. It's not entirely unfeasible that a bunch of civilians, especially those under military escort, could have found a safe zone, even behind enemy lines."_

 _"All any case,"_ Bellum continued, _"this is all a moot point. Command had the same concerns as you guys did, and thus made the caller confirm his identity. Apparently commander in charge down there is some 'Colonel Menteith' with the UNSC Army. Whoever he is, he must have been able to establish his identity to Command's satisfaction because they're sending in a squadron of Pelicans to extract those civilians, and we've been tapped to escort them in. Buckle up your seatbelts ladies and gentlemen and say goodbye to space; we've already got the head's up. Once we reenter the atmosphere, we're staying there."_

That made Zelda sit up straighter. So. They were finally returning to the planet. He'd been wondering if that was going to happen anytime soon. Of course he knew what that meant: lots and lots of close air support missions. Good. As much as Zelda enjoyed showing off his flying skills, he could use a break where all he had to do was pick off helpless Covenant ground targets.

 _"Eject all external hardpoints,"_ Bellum command, _"and follow me in. We're going to rendezvous with the Pelicans first before going in."_

Zelda bobbed his head. Accessing his control panel, Zelda hit a few keys and glanced out through both sides of his cockpit window to see his external weapon stations ejecting off the top and bottom surfaces of his wings, floating away where they would either eventually burn up in the atmosphere, or join the ever growing cloud of debris floating in orbit around the planet.

Careful not to accidently fly into any of his comrades’ hardpoints, Zelda followed Bellum as she led them in the direction of the rally point. In the distance, Zelda could already see a number of Air Force Pelicans gathering.

 _"Omega Flight to Pelicans rendezvousing at location one niner six Alpha in sector thirty-seven: are you guys call sign ‘Blizzard?’"_ Bellum smoothly asked over the radio.

_"Omega Flight, that is an affirmative. Are you our escort, over?"_

_"Affirmative. Blizzard, our orders are to escort you in to Landing Zone Echo where you will evacuate over four hundred civilians and soldiers from Covenant controlled territory, and then cover you as you withdraw back to orbit. Can you confirm, over?"_

_"Confirmed,"_ came Blizzard' immediate reply. _"We're going to need a lot of cover because, in order to evacuate that many civilians, all Pelicans within this squadron have been reequipped with troop deployment pods. In orbit, that's not really a problem but within atmosphere, that's going to reduce our speed and maneuverability considerably, over."_

"Shit, they should have gotten another squadron to do this," Zelda muttered under his breath as he counted the number of Pelicans there were: a full squadron of twelve. Unfortunately, at this point in the day, Zelda's squadron had been reduced to a grand total of _six_ Broadswords.

 _"Understood Blizzard,"_ Bellum nevertheless said. _"We'll put three Broadswords in front to clear the way, three Broadswords at the rear to cover your six. Just maintain your formation up until we reach the LZ, and we should be okay, over."_

 _"Copy that Omega,"_ came the reply. _"Ready when you are."_

_"Roger. Moving now, break. Okay, listen up Omega! Omega Leader and Omegas 5 and 6 will lead the way! Omegas 3, 9, and 13, provide rear security. Clock is ticking so let's move it out guys."_

_"On you, Leader,"_ Odessa announced.

In lieu of a verbal response, Zelda clicked his talk button.

The engines on Bellum's fighter abruptly flared and she started heading down towards the planet. Waiting a few seconds so as to acquire the proper amount of spacing, Odessa and Zelda soon followed and together, all three Broadswords headed towards Actium.

As the one-man fighters began their descent through the upper atmosphere and the density of the space surrounding their aircraft began to increase, so too did the friction against their hull. Zelda gritted his teeth as his Broadsword steadily began to rattle and shake, and the outer layer of his hull began to glow with heat.

 _"Two minutes before we reach optimal flight altitude,"_ Bellum announced over the radio.

Zelda absentmindedly nodded his head as he fought to keep his fighter steady. This was, in his opinion, the worst part about his job: atmospheric reentry. Even with modern technology, reentry was always tricky, and every year, dozens of spacecraft all around the galaxy simply fell apart in the atmosphere due to one reason or another.

The one good thing was that it _did_ cause Zelda to wake up completely, so he was at least appreciative of that.

 _"Ninety seconds,"_ Bellum declared. _"Switching radios over to localized channels. Standby."_

There was a mute _click_ in Zelda's headset, and then all of a sudden, his radio was being flooded with calls.

 _“Rover-3 to all Rover units!”_ someone was screaming. “ _Havoc-3 is down, I say again, I’ve lost my tank support! I’ve a got a Hunter and three dozen Covenant infantry closing in on my position, I need help, NOW!”_

"Hey!" Zelda called out over the squadron's dedicated channel. "Is that from the LZ?"

"Sounds like it, doesn't it?" Odessa commented. _"Hang on, I'm checking now... yeah, that's from the LZ. **Our** LZ."_

"Well, that's great then," Zelda exclaimed.

_"It sounds like they're about to be overrun Zelda. How is that great!?"_

"Now we get to swoop in at the last second and save the day," Zelda pointed out. "Be some big damn heroes for once."

Odessa sighed. _"Of course that's what you'd be thinking about."_

 _"Guys, focus!"_ Bellum snapped. _"I'm picking up contacts on my sensors. Looks like... okay, I got a lock on two Covenant Hunters closing in on the LZ! It looks like it's going to be danger close. Zelda, prep a missile: I'm going to go for the closest one with guns, you drop the far one with that missile! Clear?"_

"Got it," Zelda replied as he armed a missile.

_"Okay, here we go... GUNS GUNS GUNS!"_

Bellum abruptly disappeared underneath some clouds, so Zelda wasn't able to visually see her strafing run but as he emerged from the clouds himself, he could see the results: a couple hundred meters directly below him, there was an entire mass of Covenant soldiers, of which, the Hunters were easy to pick out. One of the Hunters was laying on the ground, massive holes having been punched right through its body. The other...

"Rifle!" Zelda warned as he instantly locked onto the remaining Hunter and fired. His bomb bay doors automatically opened, and Zelda could hear the _thunk_ of a missile getting released, as well as a steady light appearing in his HUD indicating a successful munitions detachment.

Looking out of his cockpit window, he looked out just in time to see as his missile's engines ignite, before the missile plummeted down to the ground at near supersonic speeds and slam into the remaining Hunter, which exploded into ludicrous gobbets.

At that sight, Zelda could see the remaining Covenant infantry immediately withdrawing.

"Scratch one Hunter!" Zelda cheered.

 _"Rover-3, this is Omega Flight,"_ Bellum announces over the radio. “ _Heard you boys could use a hand.”_

 _“Omega Flight, this is Rover-3 Actual,"_ Rover immediately replied and in the background, Zelda could hear someone cheering. _"If you were on the ground right now, I would kiss you. You just saved our bacons.”_

To Zelda's immense surprise, Bellum started laughing.

 _“Save the kiss and buy us a case a beer, then we’ll call it even,”_ she replied. _“Hey, we’ll mop things up here, you boys get washed up for supper. Your chariots are inbound.”_

Zelda glanced over his shoulder in Bellum's direction, doubly surprised. Was she _flirting_ with this guy? He had never heard her do that before and honestly, he had started to think she didn't have it within her.

Before Zelda could comment on it though, Odessa suddenly spoke up.

 _"Leader, this is 5: be advised, I'm picking up signatures of inbound Banshees on my radar. ETA, one mike!"_ Odessa warned.

 _“Better make it quick though,”_ Bellum quickly warned over the radio. _“We’ve got a squadron of Banshees inbound and they are **pissed**. This flight corridor ain’t going to remain secured for long, over.”_

_"Copy!"_

There was another click and Zelda could hear Bellum switching channels.

_"Omega Leader to Blizzard. Be advised, LZ is cleared for now, but not for long: we're picking up inbound Banshee squadrons. Get those civilians out of here, break. Omega 3, we still have Covenant infantry picking at the edge of the LZ. Move in with your flight and engage, break! Odessa, Zelda, on me, we're going to slow down those Banshees!"_

Zelda grabbed his yoke and banked in the direction of the incoming Banshees, but truth be told, his mind was on something else.

Switching his radio over to Bellum's channel, he slyly asked, "So Bellum, you like ground pounders, do you?"

 _"Now's not really the time Zelda,"_ Bellum distractedly replied.

"Just sayin': you were totally flirting with that guy."

That seemed to catch Bellum's attention.

 _"No I wasn't,"_ she insisted.

"Yeahhhh..." Zelda dragged out. "You totally were..."

Bellum sighed. _"Link, you think it's possible for you to focus on the task at hand?"_ she replied, though Zelda could pick up the barest hint of embarrassment in her voice.

Zelda grinned in triumph. Her reaction was all he needed. Now he had something he could tease her more in the future with.

"Copy that, ma'am," was all he said before switching back to the general channel. "I'm getting a reading: Banshees are in range!"

 _"Standby to volley fire on my command,"_ Bellum immediately barked and Zelda hastily began arming missiles. _"Fire!"_

"Fox three!" Zelda announced as he pulled the trigger, and three missiles were launched from his Broadsword towards the Covenant in rapid succession.

As the Banshees were still at beyond visual ranges, their Covenant pilots had plenty of time to detect the incoming missiles and take appropriate measures. As a result, most of the missiles missed, but at the very least it forced the Covenant to break formation, slowing them down and buying Blizzard more time.

Thinking of Blizzard, Zelda glanced behind him. Already one Pelican was beginning to take off, which was good.

 _"Second volley,"_ Bellum barked. _"Get ready... fire!"_

Zelda fired once more. As this time the Banshees were just a bit closer, the missiles had more of an effect and through his sensors, Zelda could see at least one Banshee going down in flames.

 _"Blizzard, this is Omega Leader: you might want to consider picking up the pace some,"_ Bellum warned over the radio.

_"Understood Omega: we're working as fast as we can!"_

Bellum didn't bother with a reply. _"Leader to Omega 3, sitrep?"_

_"LZ is secured: all infantry have been mopped up."_

_"Form up as a second wave and be prepared to follow us in. Blizzard needs more time, and we're not going to be able to stop all these Banshees."_

_"Copy."_

Zelda glanced at his rear scopes. More and more Pelicans were quickly rising up from the ground, but there was still at least a quarter of them getting loaded.

 _"5 and 6, prepare to engage with short ranged missiles,"_ Bellum ordered.

 _"Incoming!"_ Odessa suddenly yelled as the Banshees abruptly opened up with their fuel rod cannons.

"Chaff," Zelda spat as he casually jerked his stick to the side and dodged the first few fuel rods. "Fox one!"

A missile spat out from underneath his Broadsword once more, but this time the Banshees were close enough Zelda could see the explosion that lit up the sky. As expected though, such a loss hardly deterred the Covenant as they continued to charge in for the kill.

 _"Alright guys, this is it,"_ Bellum announced, and Zelda could hear her breathing rather heavily. _"Get ready for a knife fight and try to remember we're fighting within the atmosphere."_

Zelda gave a start. He had, actually, momentarily forgotten that they were in atmosphere and with the reminder, he found himself grinning like an idiot. This was going to get interesting.

While in space, due to lack of stuff like 'friction' and 'drag,' Banshees were highly mobility fighting platforms able to dodge and weave with the grace of a ballerina. But within the atmosphere of a planet, the dynamic was flipped and it would be Broadswords who, due to their higher surface area which allowed for more lift, had the maneuvering advantage.

_"Standby to split on my mark. Standby... execute!"_

Zelda peeled away from Bellum and Odessa. Almost immediately, the Banshees were on top of them to fill in the gaps and Zelda was instantly confronted with a trio of Banshees, plasma cannons blazing.

"Fox one!" Zelda blurted out as he fired a snap shot at one of the Banshees. The Covie tried to dodge but at this distance, there simply was no time and the Banshee took the missile head on and exploded. One of the other Banshees banked to the left, hard, to avoid the explosion, temporarily leaving Zelda with only one Banshee to contend with.

"Guns!" he snapped and pulled the trigger. He could feel his autocannons popping out of their gun ports and he could hear them, yes, hear them because he was now inside the atmosphere of a planet, as they fired.

**_BOOMBOOMBOOM!_ **

His first salvo missed as the Banshee threw itself into a barrel roll and shot right passed Zelda, but Zelda was content to let him go as he was confronted with the third Banshee. Holding down his trigger, Zelda blasted away at the new target, but his aim was off and all Zelda could do was score a glancing blow off the left stabilization of the Banshee, leaving a decent sized crack.

The Banshee pilot immediately banked to the right to try and get out of Zelda's line of sight and normally such a move would have worked, but the Elite pilot must have forgotten where he was. Because while conducting such an intensive maneuver with a slightly damaged wing like that was hardly lethal in space, inside a planet's atmosphere where there was drag and friction, the stress applied to an aircraft's frame was greatly amplified, especially at the speeds they were traveling at. And a Banshee's airframe was designed for mass production and speed and _not_ survivability...

Zelda watched as the Banshee's left stabilizer sheared off as the stress of trying to execute a ninety degree turn at near supersonic speeds proved too much for the Banshee's frame. With only one anti-gravity pod left, the Banshee was sent spiraling to the ground and just as he flew past, Zelda thought he could see the Banshee finally explode, but at that point Zelda was no longer paying attention as he was being confronted with a fresh trio of Banshees.

They came screaming in at top speeds, plasma cannon's blazing, and Zelda threw himself into a spin as he tried to minimize his frontal profile. Obtaining a lock on the two outermost Banshees, rather than fire right away, Zelda punched in his afterburners and launched his Broadsword at the incoming enemy. Not having expected such a move, the Banshees reflexively scattered, but as the two factions whipped passed each other, Zelda abruptly extended his air brakes, dropping his sped from over a thousand to less than a couple hundred.

"GAHHH!!!" Zelda screamed in pain as the g-force slammed into his body, and he could almost swear his lungs were about collapse, but it was completely worth it as he was now behind the three Banshees. "Fox one!"

Two more missiles departed from under his Broadsword and two more explosions lit up the sky. The third Banshee promptly threw himself into a dive to try and juke what he thought would have been Zelda's next missile, but Zelda hadn't even tried locking onto him. Instead, Zelda started climbing, seeing a number of Banshees passing by overhead at a much higher altitude.

As he closed in on his targets, Zelda could hear someone saying over the general comms, _"Colonel! Colonel, get your men aboard! We have to leave, right now!"_

Locking onto a Banshee, Zelda thumbed his trigger, blowing a series of holes right through the Banshee, practically cutting it in half. The Banshee exploded, causing a large amount of debris plummeting to the ground below and forcing Zelda to throw himself into a loop to avoid getting hit.

 _"No, that's alright,"_ Zelda heard someone reply. “ _We’re going to stay. I’m in the mood to cause some trouble for these Covenant sons of bitches. And, with any luck, we’ll draw some patrols away from your path, Major Volkov. Blizzard 6-1, get those civilians to safety. That’s all that matters at this point.”_

"Does some of that trouble include providing some SAM support!?" Zelda wondered out loud to himself as he dodged a fuel rod cannon that had been fired in his direction. In the background, Zelda could hear the Pelican pilots saying, _"Copy that. Good luck, Colonel."_

_Colonel?_

Zelda briefly wondered if this was that Colonel Menteith Bellum had been talking about earlier, but then he decided he didn't care enough to find out.

_"Omega Flight, this is Blizzard: last Pelican is taking off right now, over."_

_"Copy that!"_ came Bellum's strained reply. _"All Omega Flight pilots, break contact and make sure those Banshees don't try to follow the Pelicans!"_

Firing one last missile at a Banshee he had locked on, Zelda yanked back on his yoke and sent himself shooting upwards, back towards the upper atmosphere. He could see a fuel rod cannon chasing him in his wake that had been fired at max range, but not being in space, the fuel rod cannon also had to contend against gravity and it quickly lost all its energy, causing it to safely self-destruct in a violent green flash nearly a hundred meters away from Zelda.

Spotting a flight of Banshees closing in on the Pelicans from the rear, Zelda maneuvered to intercept. Another Broadsword joined him, and Zelda glanced over his shoulder to see that it was Odessa.

"Hey buddy!" Zelda cheerfully greeted in an as obnoxious voice as he could manage.

 _"You ever notice how morbid it sounds to hear you being so cheerful when you're killing things?"_ Odessa immediately noted. _"Almost makes you sound like a psychopath."_

"What can I say?" Zelda replied with a shrug. "Every Covenant soldier I kill now potentially means one more civilian saved further down the line, you know?"

 _"That's a fair point,"_ Odessa allowed. _"So... who do you want to kill first?"_

Zelda regarded the Banshees in front of him. "Can't use missiles because they're too close to the Pelicans. Let's go for the rear and work our way to the front," he decided. "Like turkey hunting: you don't want to take out the leader cause then it'd just scare the rest of the flock."

 _"Not sure it works the same way but what the hell,"_ Odessa said. _"I don't hunt."_

"Cool. Follow me in!"

Zelda quickly studied the scene in front of him. The three Banshees had open fired on the rear most Pelican, and the Pelican was returning fire with its nose mounted cannon, trying to drive the Banshees off, but obviously a cargo ship had no chance against a dedicated warplane. Still, the Pelican's fire did have the benefit of distracting the Banshee pilots' from Zelda's approach. As long he didn't trying to obtain a missile lock on them...

Zelda fired. The Banshee was sitting at the very edge of Zelda's maximum effective range for his main cannons, and thus his first few rounds failed to do much more than bounce off the Banshee's armor. Fortunately, Odessa has waited a few seconds before firing and as a result, his rounds were fired that much closer, enough to actually penetrate.

Flames shot out from the top of the Banshee’s hull and it immediately plummeted from the sky, possibly because Odessa has managed to kill the pilot. Whatever the case was, the other two Banshees noticed the loss of their friend immediately, and scattered.

 _“So much for shooting the last one in the line!”_ Odessa yelled.

“So they’re not exactly turkeys!” Zelda yelled back as he jerked his stick to try and keep the Banshees in sight. “But hey, at least they’re not chasing after the Pelicans!”

_“Yeah? And how does that help us?”_

“Means we can do this!” Zelda armed a missile. “Fox one!”

Zelda blinked as his target disintegrate into one massive fireball, leaving the remaining Banshee to try and flee as fast as possible. He slowly lined up his shot, but then paused.

“Hey Vinnie! I don’t suppose you want this one?” he asked.

In response, Odessa ignited his afterburners and shot in front of Zelda and began lining up his shot. No doubt picking the move up on his sensors, the Banshee pilot threw himself into a barrel roll, slowing himself to near stall speed in an effort to evade any locks as well as try and get Zelda and Odessa to overshoot him, but it didn’t work as Odessa was able to easily match the Banshee move for move. Rather than expend a missile, Odessa fired a single shot with his main cannons, hitting the Banshee’s fuel rod cannon and causing it to explode.

The Banshee immediately erupted into flames, and as the crippled aircraft began its downward death spiral, the canopy abruptly burst open and Zelda could see the Elite pilot leaping out. Zelda tapped his yoke and angled his fighter towards the Elite, but the alien threw itself into a superman dive, and just barely managed to avoid getting run over by Zelda’s heavy fighter.

Zelda was half tempted to turn around and try again, but seeing as he hadn’t seen a parachute on the Elite, he figured there would be no point as the Elite was no longer a threat. Especially since he was picking up more Banshees closing in on his position from below…

“Odessa! We got more Banshees inbound!” Zelda started to say when –

_CLANG!_

Zelda flinched as a blue plasma bolt splattered against his cockpit window. All it did was leave a burn mark behind, indicating it hadn’t been fired by a Banshee as a direct hit like that would have cracked his canopy open, but Zelda couldn’t figure out where it had come from until he glanced at his rear scopes and spotted that damn Elite, hovering in mid-air due to the jump pack it was wearing, with its plasma rifle in hand firing non-stop at Zelda’s Broadsword, as if such a small weapon could knock him out of the sky.

 _“Man, that Elite really likes you, doesn’t he?”_ Odessa commented.

“Fucking dumbass aliens never give up, do they?” Zelda snarled. Normally, that would have been a cause for respect but right now, that was just pissing Zelda off.

 _“You want me to take him or do you - ?”_ Odessa asked as the Elite continued uselessly firing on the two fighters.

In response, Zelda yanked back on his yoke and threw himself into a wingover. As he leveled out, Zelda could see the Elite priming a plasma grenade and rather than risk his damage to his fighter, Zelda simply open fired with his main cannons.

_BOOMBOOMBOOM!_

There was a _puff_ and a small cloud of dark purple liquid appeared in mid-air as the Elite took one of the 35mm rounds straight to the chest.

“Could have made it down to the surface and lived to fight another day but nooo, just had to shoot at me,” Zelda muttered under his breath. “Fucking idiot.”

_“Omega Flight, this is Blizzard: be advised, we’re free and clear. Bayonet Squadron is being routed to cover us the rest of the way. Thanks for the assist!”_

_"Copy!"_ came Bellum's replied. _"Leader to all Omega Flight pilots: mission accomplished! Break contact and fall back to rally point Juliet!"_

_"Leader this is 13: I'm picking up more incoming Banshees passing through the rally point right now!"_

_"What!? Copy, I see them! Uh, give me a second!"_

Zelda glanced at his radar to see an entirely new squadron of Banshees flying in from the East and closing in fast.

_"Okay, leader to Omega Flight, new orders! Break contact, go low low and reassemble at rally point Kilo! I say again, rally point Kilo! Flanker Squadron is standing by to provide us cover!"_

Zelda didn't bother waiting for Bellum to repeat her orders. He immediately threw himself into an inverted loop. As much as Zelda wouldn't mind sticking around, with the arrival of Covenant reinforcements, the Broadswords were getting increasingly outnumbered here.

Going from loop straight into a dive, Zelda was confronted with the sight of a flight of Banshees swiftly rising up to greet him. They fired first, filling the air with all sorts of plasma bolts. Zelda juked and weaved and started doing all sorts of rolls in an effort to dodge, all the while he continued plummeting to the earth. As he continued to dive at top speeds, he thumbed the trigger to his autocannons, trying to score a hit on one of the Banshees but while his evasive maneuvers were preventing the Banshees from hitting _him_ , they were also prevent Zelda from hitting _them_.

In the end, it hardly mattered though, because as soon as Zelda got within a couple hundred meters, the Banshees reflexively scattered, clearing the way for him to shoot right past them without much issue. As he roared by, he glanced through his rear scopes and he could see the Banshees hurriedly looping around to pursue but by then, Zelda was already gone.

Glancing at his altimeter, Zelda watched as the numbers rapidly tick down.

 _"WARNING: COLLISION ALERT. WARNING: COLLISION ALERT,"_ his computer began chiming and Zelda glanced around him.

According to his altimeter, he was still nearly three hundred meters above sea level, and should have been far from coming close to hitting anything, but there was a large cloud bank in front of him that was blocking his view of the ground and Zelda trusted his sensors.

Yanking back on his yoke, Zelda began pulling out of his dive. He found himself gasping for air as the force of trying to pull up at those speeds pushed him hard against his seat, and he could hear his Broadsword groaning from all the stress, but fortunately his aircraft managed to hold together.

Plummeting through the clouds, Zelda emerged on the other side to see -

"SON OF A BITCH!"

Zelda yanked his yoke to the side and just barely managed to avoid flying right into the skyscraper at Mach 3. He wasn't sure when the fight had returned to the skies over Byzas, but evidently it had at some point as he found himself passing right over the city.

He wasn’t given much time for sightseeing though as his master caution unexpectedly went off, and Zelda threw his Broadsword into a roll to the right. Seconds later, a fuel rod cannon passed right through the space he'd been occupying moments ago.

 _"Contact, three Banshees coming from above!"_ Odessa barked out a warning and when had Odessa caught up with him? _"I don't got visual, but I'm picking them on radar!"_

Zelda glanced over his shoulder as the three Banshees plummeted from above the cloud cover some distance behind him. One of the Banshees promptly exploded as it collided with the same building Zelda himself had only just barely managed to avoid, but that still left two Banshees.

"Yeah, I see them! Two Banshees, closing in on our six!" Zelda warned.

_"Those weren't the ones I was talking about!"_

Zelda felt his eyes widen in horror and he banked _hard_ to the right. Moments later, three _more_ Banshees plummeted out from the cloud cover and began chasing after Zelda.

 _"Watch out Zelda, the Banshees have separated us!"_ Odessa warned as Zelda broke away further from Odessa to try and obtain some room to maneuver. _"We're not going to be in a position to support each other!"_

"Yeah, I know, but what else is new!?" Zelda yelled back as he entered into an aileron roll to try and avoid the plasma getting thrown his way. "Fall back to the rally point, maybe we can get some support there!"

_"See if you can't pass over the Covenant controlled side of the city, that way if any of those Banshees miss, they'll be hitting their own friendlies on the ground!"_

"'If' the damn Banshees miss? What do you take me for, a damn amateur?" Zelda muttered to himself. Obviously, there was no response and Zelda accelerated as the air behind began to fill up with plasma bolts.

As he sped over the city, Zelda tried to think of a way to lose his pursuers. He could try to fly through the city, but that was insanely risky, even for him, and chances were high it just wouldn't work as all the Banshees needed to do was fly higher and shoot directly downwards, and eventually they would get him simply because there would be no place for Zelda to go. None of his usual tricks would work either: he couldn't fly backwards as that didn't work inside an atmosphere and because of gravity, his usual method of dumping a bomb or a missile behind him and hoping the Banshees were stupid enough to fly close enough to get hit by the explosion was also out of the question as all ordnance he dropped would simply fall straight to the ground.

"How do I keep finding myself in these situations!?" Zelda exclaimed. A plasma bolt passed right over his cockpit. "Shit! Forcing me to use the oldest trick in the book, huh? Fine! Be that way!"

He jammed down on his accelerator. If he couldn't outmaneuver his pursuers, then maybe he could outrun them instead.

The city outside started becoming a blur before disappearing completely as Zelda found himself quickly leaving the city limits. Here, he could see even more fighting as he reached the southernmost limit of the Covenant's expansion, but he wasn't given much time to look around as his master alarm began sounding.

_"WARNING, INCOMING MISSILE."_

"Flares," Zelda spat, and flares began shooting out in all directions as he rolled. The fuel rod cannon started going for one of the flares, before locking onto something else, and took off in the direction of the ground. Zelda could only hope that it would something of the Covenant's and not the UNSC.

**_FWOOZFWOOZ BANG!_ **

_BEEPBEEPBEEP!_

Zelda jerked forward in his seat as something hit the rear of his Broadsword, triggering all sorts of alarms. His eyes flicked up to his HUD as both the master caution and fire warning on his instrument panel lit up.

“Damage report,” he spat out, and an orthographic projection of his Broadsword appeared in his eyes before an inset of his engines appeared. His two auxiliary engines were both highlighted in red; a plasma bolt had scored a direct hit right between the two engines, burned through the armor, and severed the fuel line, causing a flameout.

The loss of his auxiliary engines wasn’t too terribly tragic as they were only really used for when he needed to go to orbit, but it just went to show just how close the Banshees were getting. Sooner or later, they would hit something more vital, like his main engines. Or his cockpit. He needed some way of losing his pursuers. But what?

_"Omega Flight, this is Flanker: be advised, we are inbound, your location, three minutes."_

That could work.

Zelda keyed his mic, cutting Bellum off before she could respond.

"This is Omega-6 to any Flanker pilots in the AO," he said as calmly as he could. "I got three Bandits on my six and that I can't shake. I could use some assistance, over."

 _"Okay Omega-6, we read you,"_ Flanker smoothly replied. _"We got eyes on your location. Turn to oh five, we'll cover for you."_

"Copy. I'm inbound, hot."

Dodging another fuel rod cannon, Zelda sped off in the direction Flanker had indicated. In the distance, blue dots representing Flanker began appearing on the edges of his long range sensors as he approached their position. If Zelda had seen Flanker, no doubt the Covenant had also so Zelda glanced at his rear scopes to see how they responded. Two of the Banshees on his tail had broken off and in the distance, Zelda could just barely make out the sight of all the Banshee squadrons in the area reforming in order to confront the new threat.

One Banshee, however, stayed doggedly on his tail, firing so many plasma bolts the Elite's cannons were beginning to overheat.

_"Omega-6, status?"_

"Two of the Banshees broke off, but I still got one on my ass," Zelda reported.

_"Okay, hang on. Omega-6, I'm going to try something. I'm going to fire a missile at you, but I'm going to need you to not break away until I tell you. Don't move until I say! Understood, over?"_

"Got it," Zelda replied, instantly picking up on what Flanker was trying to do.

_"Copy. Here goes nothing. Fox three!"_

On his radar, Zelda could see a single dot rapidly departing from Flanker's position and closing in fast on his. His control panel lit up with warnings as it picked up the incoming missile.

 _"WARNING, INCOMING MISSILE,"_ his computer chimed.

"I know! Shut up!" Zelda yelled as he tried to split his attention between the incoming missile, and the Banshee still raining fire down on him from behind. It wasn't easy, and the plasma fire was getting dangerously close.

Zelda glanced at his rear scopes, wondering why the Banshee hadn't pulled off yet. Surely the pilot had detected the incoming missile?

 _"Omega-6... standby... almost there..."_ Flanker recited over the radio. Zelda glanced at his HUD. Thirty seconds to impact. _"Omega-6, BREAK LEFT!"_

Zelda jammed his stick to the left, rolling out of the path of the missile. At the same time, in a move that left even Zelda mildly impressed, the Banshee that had been behind him yanked back hard on his stick and nearly did a ninety degree turn upwards on the spot, shooting straight up just as Flanker's missile came screaming in. Zelda could see the missile start to arch skyward as it tried to track the Banshee, but missiles were nowhere as maneuverable as fighters were and at that close distance, there wasn't enough time for the missile to turn. Nor was the missile close enough to the Banshee for the warhead to detonate.

The missile shot past underneath the Banshee, missing the Covenant fighter by a good three or four meters. As it flew by, it was at least able to reacquire its lock on the Banshee, and started to make a wide U-turn, when the Banshee promptly blasted the missile out of the sky with its plasma cannons.

"Oh, come on!" Zelda groaned as the Banshee started to turn back in his direction. "Are you fucking kidding me!?"

Banshees were obviously inanimate objects, but Zelda could have sworn this one was smirking at him as a green glow appeared underneath the Banshee as the Elite pilot prepared to fire a fuel rod cannon right at Zelda. Out of position and at a much lower altitude than the Banshee, there wasn't much Zelda could do -

\- at least, not until the _other_ missile Flanker fired slammed into the Banshee, obliterating it completely.

"Dumbass," Zelda sneered. "What'd you think, we were just going to fire one missile and call it day? What a fucking retard."

_"Omega-6, Flanker Leader; what's your status?"_

"Clear and free," Zelda replied as he started to climb in order to return to his squadron. "Thanks for the assist. Leader."

 _"No problem,"_ Flanker replied and as the squadron passed over him, Zelda wagged his wings as a sign of thanks.

Flanker sped by and headed in the direction of the Banshees. Zelda glanced at his rear scopes as Flanker volley fired an entire salvo of missiles at the Banshees at max range before punching in their afterburners and closing to within dogfighting range. Zelda was tempted to turn around and go help them out, but Flanker wasn't the only ones attacking the Banshees; zooming his radar out, Zelda could pick up signatures of at least two other squadrons of Broadswords, as well as a Wombat squadron getting vectored in to aid in the attack.

 _"Omega-6, this Leader,"_ he heard Bellum say over the radio. _"What's your status, over?"_

"I took some light damage to my rear armor," Zelda reported. "And my aux engines are out. But aside from that, I'm green across the board, over."

 _"Copy that,"_ Bellum smoothly replied. _"Break. Leader to all Omega Flight pilots: RTB for rearming and refueling. I say again: return to base for rearmament and refueling. Acknowledge, over."_

_"This is Omega-5, solid copy."_

_"Omega-13, I copy."_

_"Omega-3, understood."_

_"This is Omega-9: I copy."_

"Omega-6 here: just waiting on you Leader," Zelda replied.

_"Understood. Leader to all Omega Flight pilots, form up on me. We are returning to base, out."_

And with that, Bellum started heading back to the airbase.

As Zelda moved to return to formation, he glanced at his rear scopes. In the distance, Flanker and the rest of the assembled squadrons had finally slammed into the mass of Banshees and one hell of a melee was unfolding. It was a little too early to say for certain but by the looks of it, the UNSC was slowly gaining ground. Within the next two hours, with any luck, the skies over Byzas would be cleared of all Covenant airframes.

The UNSC Air Force was back in business baby.

* * *

General Notes

**Rifle** : in this context is an Air Force brevity code referring to a friendly air-to-surface missile launch, similar to how “Fox" is used to indicate air-to-air missiles being launched.


	16. Railroaded

**UNSC _Moonlight Sonata_   
May 6, 2545  
2126**

**Luzader**

Luzader passively watched as, on screen, one of the Rangers carefully placed a black strip on the edge of the door.

_"Preparing to breach,_ " Captain Rogers reported. _"In three, two, one... execute."_

The point man pulled the trigger. There was a loud _bang_ , and the door was blown to shreds. Almost immediately, another Ranger leaned around the corner and hurtled a small device into the room.

**_WHAMP WHAMP WHAMP_ **

Seven flashes could be seen going off inside the room, and a sort of ringing noise filled the speakers.

_"Breaching, breaching!"_ the lead Ranger yelled and entered the room.

Luzader watched as a second Ranger follow closely behind before Rogers and the camera moved in, weapon raised. The screen briefly flashed to compensate for the change in light, but Luzader could see the two Rangers on either side of Rogers, covering the left and right sides of the room, respectively, while Rogers swept the center. The room was empty aside from two Grunts struggling to recover from the flash bangs, but before they could -

_PFT PFT PFT_

\- Rogers and his men gunned them down, riddling them with holes with their suppressed weapons.

_"Left clear,"_ one of the Rangers declared.

_"Right cleared."_

_"Room secured,"_ Rogers announced, putting his rifle on safe and lowering it so that the muzzle was safely pointed at the ground. _"Romanova, how's the exit?"_

_"Rear access is secured, boss,"_ came the reply. _"No movement."_

_"Copy. Barton, how's the view from up there?"_

_"No sign of any Covenant QRF."_

_"Alright, understood. Wōdenson, cover our six. The rest of you? You know what to do: SSE. Let's move it."_

Luzader placed his hands on his desk and intently watched as the rest of Rogers' team poured into the room and began sweeping the area. There wasn't much to see. This room wasn't anything special: it wasn't any sort of Covenant command center or armory or even a barracks. It wasn't even a Covenant building. It was just a room, inside a simple human civilian building that appeared to have been a sort of souvenir shop in a past life.

But it was because of that simplicity that made it so interesting the Covenant had felt the need to post several guards both outside and inside the room...

Rogers’ helmet camera swept towards the back of the room, revealing several human bodies lying on the ground in a neat row. Luzader had been fighting this war too long to be bother by a sight like that any longer, but he could hear Rogers sighing.

_"_ Sonata _? Be advised, we have located several bodies inside the room. Human bodies,"_ Rogers reported. _"Barnes? Check them and make sure they're not wired to anything."_

The team's assigned combat engineer walked up and carefully began checking the bodies. After a few tense moments, he finally stood up.

_"They're all secured, Cap,"_ he reported.

_"Sam."_

"Sonata _, we have eleven bodies here,"_ the team's attached Air Force pararescueman reported. _"I'm seeing both male and female. Victims' ages range from, I'd say seven to about eighty. All victims appeared to have been killed sometime between the hours of -"_

Luzader leaned forward and grabbed the microphone from his technician. "Sergeant Wilson, I don't give a shit about the civilians," he snapped, interrupting the medic's report. "Tell me about that soldier on the far left."

Luzader could almost hear Rogers' frown of disapproval from here as Wilson moved over, and it took Luzader just about everything to avoid snapping at the Captain. This was what they were here for. Not the civilians.

The view of the camera shifted to that of the corpse of the soldier Luzader had spotted lying on the ground on the far left.

_"Okay, victim is a military aged male, approximately nineteen, twenty years of age,"_ Wilson reported. _"Multiple stab wounds across upper and lower torso, as well as the back and the legs. The circular shape of the wounds would indicate he was being stabbed by, I don’t know, a spear or even a stick of some kind. Fractured forearms and bruises would indicate he was alive and fighting back when this happened. Death was caused by a single plasma shot to the back of the head."_

_"So he was tortured and then executed,"_ Rogers summarized.

_"Basically, yes,"_ Wilson grimly confirmed, before continuing. _“No weapons, armor, or gear, but he is wearing the uniform of the UNSC Army. Checking the division patch..."_

Wilson leaned over and turned the body over, revealing a simple subdued insignia on the body's left shoulder depicting a jackalope with the words 'airborne' written over it.

_"Shoulder sleeve insignia is that of the 222nd Airborne Division,"_ Wilson announced.

"Check for identification," Luzader ordered.

Rogers reached out to the corpse and began search around the man's neck before fishing out a pair of dog tags. He activated them, revealing a holographic image of the victim.

_"Falco, Puck,"_ the hologram read. _"Eight niner zero seven six dash niner six seven seven one dash Papa Foxtrot. Religion: Hellenism -"_

The hologram continued to read off the dog tag, but Luzader was no longer paying attention. Instead, he glanced at his technician, who was hastily typing the name into the search computer. She looked up and gave Luzader a single nod.

"Confirmed, Captain," Luzader immediately announced. "That's one of the men Major Volkov had requisitioned for his airborne detachment. Continue searching the body for more clues. See if you can't figure out where Major Volkov and his men went from there. Report back to me the moment you've found something, over."

_“Understood, sir. Rogers, out."_

The screen blinked off and Luzader plopped down into his seat with a mute grunt, feeling conflicted. On one hand, this corpse was the first sign of Major Volkov and his team ever since the man had dropped off the grid two hours ago. On the other, the corpse wasn't exactly a giant flashing sign pointing where Volkov had gone or what his status was.

Luzader mentally sighed. Damn that man. Why he felt the need to take a ground team in and go searching for the missing Spartans instead of taking the safer option of using indirect, Luzader had no idea. But fact of the matter was, Volkov _had_ gone in, and now they were left without a clue where the Spartans' corpses were, without a clue where Volkov and his men were, and little to no time left to search for any of them.

And speaking of no time...

One of Luzader's men suddenly leaned towards him.

"Sir," he quietly said, "I have Admiral Parangosky on the line for you."

This time Luzader really did sigh. Great, just what he needed.

"Transfer her to my console," he ordered. "And set privacy screens to maximum."

The technician nodded, and Luzader took a second to straighten himself up before nodding. At once an image of Admiral Margaret Parangosky, director of the entire Office of Naval Intelligence, and widely agreed to be one of the most dangerous women in all of the UNSC, appeared on his screen.

_"Report,"_ she demanded.

"We found a corpse, ma'am," Luzader began, "belonging to one Specialist Puck Falco, whose last known assignment was to 1st Platoon, Quebec Company of the 3rd Brigade, 222nd Airborne Division -"

_"Lieutenant Commander,"_ Parangosky said and Luzader immediately shut up.

"Yes, ma'am?"

_"Commander, I don't care about the losses of the rank and file,"_ Parangosky coolly said. _"What I care about are those Spartans. Do you have any future leads to their status?"_

Luzader nervously swallowed. "No, ma'am," he admitted.

Parangosky did not look happy. _"Commander, I don't need to remind you about the considerable value, both strategically and monetary, these Spartans represent, do I?"_ she asked in a low voice.

Luzader quickly shook his head. "No, ma’am."

Parangosky stared at him with a cold look, and Luzader could start to feel sweat forming on the back of his neck. She held his gaze for almost a minute before finally turning away, much to Luzader's relief.

_"I want them found, Commander, dead or alive,"_ Paragonsky demanded. _"And I want them secured. I don't care if you have to burn the entire city to ash, just. Get. It. DONE."_

"Yes, ma'am. Of course, ma'am. Right away, ma'am," Luzader quickly stuttered.

With barely another glance, Paragosky's image disappeared, leaving Luzader sitting there, wondering how on Earth he was going to accomplish this mission.

Realizing nothing would be achieved by him just sitting there, Luzader reached out and switch off the privacy screen.

"Lieutenant Bellawood!" he called out, and his tactical actions officer looked up.

"Sir?"

"Reconnect me to Captain Rogers and his Rangers. Inform them they need to redouble their efforts - we're running out of time. We either need to find Major Volkov and his men, or Spartan Team Argon."

"And we need to do it _now_."

**XXXXX**

**Covenant designated Landing Zone: Deliverance  
Forerunner Designated World: MS 222-53 a  
9th Age of Reclamation  
8th Cycle of the Planet’s Rotation**

**Zek**

Zek was no one special. In fact, he was a rather all-around average Kig-Yar. A poor Ruuhtian who had been born and raised on the outskirts of Tilu City, one of the largest cities on the Kig-Yar homeworld of Eayn, Zek didn't possess much in terms of looks, riches, or even religious fervor. Which may have seemed odd, given he was a soldier of the Covenant as opposed to a member of one of the pirate crews, but truth of the matter was, Zek had joined the Covenant for one simple reason: to make himself more attractive to any potential mates. That was it.

Sure, he told everyone he believed the humans were heretics. Sure, he told everyone that he believed they deserved to be exterminated from the very face of the galaxy for offending the very Gods with their continual existence. He even occasionally went to the sermons given by the more fanatical members of his kind and cheered along with everyone else when they demanded the Matriarchs do more to support the Covenant in their Crusade to expunge the filth of humanity from the galaxy. But for him to take an active part in that purging? That, Zek saw little reason in.

Which is why he had joined the Navy, instead of the Army. Zek had no real desire to risk his life for a cause that was not his own. Other members of his kind may have thought him a coward, but Zek had been perfectly content seeing all the fighting from behind several lengths worth of nanolaminate plating.

So how was it, Zek found himself stumbling through the snow and the cold, tightly gripping a Type-51 carbine, wearily and fearfully looking in all directions, hunting for Demons?

"This is no good," Zek muttered to himself. "This is no good."

He hadn't seen any humans, aside from that one the Unggoy had been… interrogating back at the shrine- museum, but the sound of fighting had been echoing through the streets since the time Zek had set foot here.

"What we do is but for the glory of the High Prophets."

Zek snapped his beak in annoyance in Rezan's direction.

"Yes, you've said as much," Zek grumpily retorted. "Many times, in fact. But now, methinks you are attempting to convince _yourself_ of this, not me."

A guilty look passed over Rezan's face.

"I am merely attempting to assuage you," he began, "that our actions are not for ourselves but -”

"QUIET ON THE LINE!" their new Sangheili commander, whom Zek didn't even know the name of, snapped from the front of the column.

"Why?" Zek defiantly muttered under his breath. "Are we not nearing the base?"

Rezan made a gesture of ignorance, and Zek mentally sighed before falling silent. It wasn't worth attempting to argue.

From the moment they had reached the former firebase at the human museum, Zek and Rezan had been immediately drafted by the Sangheili at the front of the column and despite Zek's protest that they belonged to the Fleet and not the Legion, the Sangheili had demanded both Zek and Rezan join the hunt for the Demons. And so, they had journeyed through much of this city, looking for clues, but finding little in actual results.

Fortunately, the entire patrol had been recalled to another nearby firebase the landing force had established. The reasoning behind their recall was unknown to Zek, but he cared little, only that he would hopefully be able to rest. As well as possibly obtain some food.

Forcing their way through snow banks and mounds of debris, the patrol soon reached the location of the firebase, Firebase Reformation as it was called - or so Zek heard the Sangheili say. The base had been established within the confines of a former human facility. By outward appearances, the facility appeared to have been once a central logistical center for vehicles that traveled on rails.

Zek resisted the urge to snort. How primitive these humans were: they were still utilizing wheeled based vehicles as opposed to anti-gravity ones.

They were approaching the outer edge of the perimeter when someone yelled out in accented Sangheili, "Halt! Stand and be identified!"

Zek's Sangheili commander gestured for the column to stop before stalking forward. "It is I, Evocatus Thon ‘Quetshadee! Who dares challenge me?"

There was a mute yelp of surprise, and two Kig-Yar came tumbling out of a nearby building. Zek resisted the urge to sneer when he realized they were both T'vaoans. T'vaoans. Always saw themselves as superior to all other Kig-Yar, but in truth they were about as undisciplined and rabble-like as the _Unggoy_. Pathetic.

"Many apologies Evocatus ‘Quetshadee," the larger of the two T'vaoans began groveling. Based on the configuration of his armor, Zek could tell he was a Major. "For we did not recognize you."

‘Quetshadee immediately silenced them with a look.

"You two are the perimeter guards?" he demanded.

The two T'vaoans exchanged a nervous look.

"Yes sire, we are," the Major replied.

"Then you both are very _poor_ guards!" ‘Quetshadee snapped. "For why were my forces allowed to approach so closely before being challenged!? And where are the rest of the guards!? There should be a full File protecting this section!!"

The T'vaoan Major hurriedly bowed low. "Humble apologies ‘Quetshadee. We have but just arrived. For there _was_ a File here, led by one Minor Kitun ‘Refumee -"

"Of the House ‘Refumee?" ‘Quetshadee interrupted. The T'vaoan Major paused.

"I believe so, yes," he started to say when he was interrupted again.

"Bah! I know the young fool!" ‘Quetshadee declared. "What of him?"

"There was an explosion. Approximately one sixth of this planet's cycle ago in that direction." The Major pointed roughly in the opposite direction Zek and the rest of the column had come from. "Minor ‘Refumee, fearing this was the result of Demon activity, decided to take his File and go investigate -"

"You mean the young fool decided to abandon his post and charge out in the hopes to achieve fame and glory for he and his House, leaving you two fools to protect this base!" ‘Quetshadee abruptly interrupted, much to the Major's shock.

"Evocatus ‘Quetshadee,” the Major began, "I would never presume -"

"Perhaps _you_ don't, but I do!" ‘Quetshadee snapped, before sighing. "Ah, the young are always impatient. If he was not but of House ‘Refumee, I would punish him harshly for this, but no matter. Young Kitun will merely feel my wrath in other ways."

‘Quetshadee suddenly fixed both T'vaoans with a harsh gaze.

"But you both should be grateful to the Gods no human dare violate this perimeter whilst young Kitun was cavorting. For if there had been, _your_ punishment would be far more severe."

"Yes, of course Evocatus ‘Quetshadee," the Major stammer. "Many thanks for your mercy."

‘Quetshadee snorted in disgust.

"Resume your duties," was all he snapped before marching towards the interior of the base. After a split second hesitation, the column moved to follow him.

The guards moved aside to allow the rest of the soldiers into the base and as Zek walked by, he couldn't help but sneer in disgust at the Major. Neither of the T'vaoans seemed to noticed as they both appeared too shaken by the dress down they had just received and Zek was about to walk past them when -

He hesitated and glanced past the T'vaoan’s shoulders. For a moment, he thought he had seen some footprints in the snow behind them, the size and shape of which matched that of a single human that had been walking towards the center of the firebase...

"Zek!" Rezan called out, causing Zek to jump. "Hurry up! I don't wish to be in this cold any longer than is necessary!"

"Yes, I'll be right there!" Zek called back before glancing in the direction he thought the footprints had been, only by then the wind shifted and whatever Zek had seen was forever erased by the snow.

Zek stared at the spot for a moment, before shaking his head. He must have been more tired than he thought; he was staring to see enemies everywhere. Yes, that must have been what it was: a mere figment of his imagination.

He hurriedly chased after Rezan, catching up to him and the rest of the column as they entered a large building located near the center of the base. Looking around, Zek realized the building had been some sort of central storage facility for the rail vehicles, only at this point, all of said vehicles had been removed and replaced by Covenant equipment. Recharging stations, weapon racks, supply crates, and even some food.

The sight of the food automatically made Zek's gizzard grumble, reminding Zek of just how long it had been since his last meal, and he looked around to see if he could obtain permission from Evocatus ‘Quetshadee to leave the column. However, ‘Quetshadee had already disappeared, presumably to report to his superiors or perhaps to obtain a meal of his own. In fact, much of the column Zek and Rezan had been traveling with had already dispersed, and Zek decided to do the same.

"Come on Rezan," Zek said, patting Rezan on the shoulder. "Let's get some food."

"Yes, I could use some sustenance," Rezan agreed.

Walking over to the nearest food crate, Zek looked around. There didn't appear to be anyone monitoring the food, so Zek merely reached out and grabbed a couple of cans, one for himself and Rezan. Moving over to an empty weapon's rack, Zek stuck his carbine inside for safe keeping, before throwing himself on the ground.

"Ah!" he sighed in relief. "That's better."

"You would imagined with the amount of walking we were required to do on the _Hammer_ , we would have been used to this type of exertion," Rezan pointed as he too, plopped down on the ground.

"Artificial gravity versus natural," Zek pointed out. "The planet's pull here is much stronger than it was on the _Hammer_."

"True," Rezan allowed as he tore open his food and Zek quickly followed suit. Ah, bottarga. Excellent.

As he sat there, stuffing his face, Zek couldn't help but feel extremely relaxed and at first, that seem irrational to him. He was, after all, still on an extremely hostile world that contained plenty of angry humans that would more than likely be pleased to kill him. How could he be relaxed at a time like this?

But as he looked around, Zek suddenly realized the answer: surrounded by all sorts of friendly forces, guards, and weapons, for the first time since Zek had been forced to abandon the _Hammer_ , he felt safe. Secured. With this many guards and defenses around, there was no way a human could hope to enter this area. This was perhaps the only place on this planet that Zek was completely safe from harm. And looking at Rezan, Zek realized he wasn't the only who felt that way.

"Lots of guards around," Zek gleefully pointed out between bites.

"Yes," Rezan rapidly agreed. "And have you see their armor configuration?"

In truth, Zek had not as he'd been distracted by other matters, but now that Rezan mentioned it, Zek took a closer look and quickly realized what Rezan meant.

"They're almost all special forces," Rezan said, vocalizing Zek's unspoken realization. "I've never seen so many special forces troopers gathered in one place before."

Looking around, Zek realized Rezan was right. More than half the crowd was sporting some sort of purple or jet black armor on. In fact, aside from Zek and Rezan, there appeared to be very few "regular" soldiers around.

"They must all be hunting for the Demons," Zek speculated out loud. "This must be the central command center for the Demon hunt."

"The High Prophets have dedicated quite a lot of resources in finding these Demons," Rezan noted. "I -"

Whatever Rezan was about to say next, Zek never found out as, at that moment, there was a loud commotion coming from the other side of the building, and looking up, Zek could see a large crowd gathering.

"What is that?" Zek asked. He and Rezan shared a questioning look before the two of them abandoned their food and hurried over.

Over the crowd, Zek could just barely make out a line of people being led down a nearby staircase, but as Zek drew closer, he realized it wasn't _just_ people...

...it was a line of humans. More specifically, a line of human _prisoners_.

Each of the humans had been stripped of their gear and weapons, making them look rather small and pathetic in comparison to how they normally appeared. Each of them had their hands clasped around the back of their heads as they were led to the ground floor, and nearly forced to intermingle with the ever growing crowd of Covenant soldiers. In the meantime, said crowd was yelling and jeering, and screaming out insults at the humans.

"Look at the worms! Look how they wiggle!" a nearby Ruuhtian was shouting.

"Death to all the heretics!" an Unggoy standing right beside Zek screamed.

"Let me kill them and serve up their flesh for a meal!" someone else was shouting. "Especially the females; their bodies are especially succulent!”

Someone threw something, which hit one of the humans square in the face, and the crowd let out a loud cry of laughter as the human fell over. The Unggoy Special Operations guards paid no heed, only pausing long enough to drag the human back to its feet, but when a regular Unggoy Minor carrying a stick charged forward to hit one of the humans with, the guards launched into action. Grabbing their fellow Unggoy, they punched and kicked him until he was subdued, before shoving him back into the crowd.

"Get back!" the guard yelled, in a surprisingly deep voice for an Unggoy. "All of you, get back! The Fleetmaster wants all these prisoners alive and untouched, and he will put to death anyone who dares disobey!"

The crowd, however, was hardly deterred by the guard's threats.

"They killed my bond brother!" one of the Unggoy's was yelling. "Let me kill them!"

The guard immediately punched the speaker in the mouth, but it wasn't enough.

"Kill them!" the crowd was starting to chant and much to Zek's own surprised, he found himself chanting alongside with them.

**_FWOOZ!_ **

The entire room reflexively ducked at the sound of a plasma rifle being discharged and Zek looked around wildly for the source. He spotted Evocatus ‘Quetshadee standing at the top of the staircase with a smoking plasma rifle in hand. Next to him was -

Zek automatically felt the saliva in his mouth dry up in fear. Standing next to ‘Quetshadee was a Sangheili clad in golden ceremonial armor.

A Zealot.

But not just any Zealot...

Zek always had a bit of troubling telling Sangheili's apart. It was their mandibles; they all looked the same to Zek. However, as a member of the Fleet, Zek knew this Sangheili very well:

Fleetmaster Iam ‘Oteree. Zealot and commander of _all_ Covenant forces present in this system.

"These humans are to remain alive until I decide otherwise," '‘Oteree declared in the now very quiet room. "Any being who dares defy this command, will be declared a _heretic_ , and treated as such!"

Slowly walking down the stairs with ‘Quetshadee in tow, ‘Oteree looked around the room, as if daring anyone to protest, but no one did. In fact, no one in the room could even met the Shipmaster's eyes. Everyone bowed their heads and did their best to avoid staring directly at ‘Oteree, least they somehow incur his wrath.

Reaching the ground, ‘Oteree stopped right in front of the Unggoy who had attempted to attack the humans with a stick. The Unggoy immediately dropped the stick, which hit the ground with a loud clatter, before prostrating himself in front of ‘Oteree. ‘Oteree glanced at ‘Quetshadee, who jerked his head and immediately the Unggoy guards leapt into action. They roughly grabbed the prostrated Unggoy, who didn't protest, and dragged him away.

‘Oteree didn't even as much as glance at the scene.

"Take these prisoners outside," ‘Oteree growled. "I will question them myself out there. It is clear this rabble is unable to control themselves. These prisoners are to remain alive; the Minister demands it."

Without another word, ‘Oteree turned and headed for the door. There was a mad scramble as all Covenant soldiers hurriedly moved to get out of his way, and in the gap that developed, the remaining Unggoy, led by ‘Quetshadee, proceeded to force the prisoners out of the building.

It took quite a few moments after the entire procession had left the building before the crowd began to stir once more. It first started with a few twitches and tremors from some of the Unggoy, followed by some slight murmuring from some Kig-Yar, before the crowd as a whole abruptly decided it was safe to return to whatever they had been doing before the humans had arrived. The crowd started to separate, and the noise within the building began to return to its original level.

For his part, all Zek could do was sigh in relief. Zealots were finicky creatures; even more arrogant and short tempered than the regular rank and file Sangheili; there was no telling what exactly would attract the ire of a Zealot.

Zek turned to Rezan, only to see a troubled look on his friend's face.

"What." Zek demanded.

"I wonder what will become of those humans..." Rezan began.

"Who cares?" Zek bluntly replied. "They're heretics: they'll get exactly what they deserve."

"I guess," Rezan reluctantly agreed, and Zek couldn't help but squawk in irritation. It was strange: in terms of religion, Rezan was a far more devote member of the Great Journey than Zek ever was, yet he seemed strangely sympathetic to the heretical humans. It seemed to Zek to be quite the contradiction: how could one be so devote, yet doubt the actions of the Covenant's Most Holy Warriors?

"Come on," Zek gestured. "Let's return to our meal before we are commanded to return to the city and resume our hunt."

"Yes," Rezan agreed. "Probably a good idea."

They walked back to where they had left their food and as they arrived, as Zek felt the shudder of an aircraft passing by overhead. Grabbing his can and shoving a talonful of food into his mouth, as he sat there, chewing, Zek tried to think of something to say to Rezan, some sort of topic for a conversation, but nothing really came to mind.

"Rezan, I -" Zek started to say, when he noticed another crowd was beginning to gather again at the back of the room. This time, instead of rage or fear, the crowd had adopted an air of reverence. Zek looked around to see -

He let out a loud gasp and quickly surged to his feet. Blindly reaching behind him, he slapped around until he hit Rezan's snout, who looked up with a hiss of annoyance and a curse on his lips, only to cut himself off as he immediately saw what Zek was gesturing at. He too, hurriedly shot to his feet.

Descending gracefully down the staircase in an anti-gravity chair and escorted by a small Lance of bodyguards, was a member of the Covenant High Council: a San'Shyuum. At first, Zek thought it was one of the High Prophets, but then he realized that wasn't possible as this San'Shyuum was far too young to be one of the Most Holy Trinity. This one had to be a Minister of some sorts.

Still, as a simple Kig-Yar, Zek had never seen a San'Shyuum with his own two eyes because, as both the political and religious leaders of the entire Covenant, San'Shyuum were far too important to be visiting the likes of Zek and Rezan. So, to see one here and now, Zek couldn't help but be flabbergasted.

"A Minister of the High Council? Here? On this world?" he heard Rezan mutter out from the side of his mouth.

"Well, the entire fleet was reassigned to be under the control of a single San'Shyuum Minister. This must be the one," Zek muttered back.

"No, I understand that. However, what I don't understand is why the Minister of Contentment would be here, on the surface of this world, when it has yet to be rendered safe? I do hope the holy one is being protected."

"Guess this hunt for the Demons is more important than we thought. And the Minister's presence here certainly explains the amount of defenses dedicated to one simple firebase," Zek noted. He frowned when he noticed a single Jiralhanae Stalker walking near the Minister. The Minister had a Jiralhanae bodyguard? That was an... interesting choice, given that everyone in the Covenant knew the blood feud between the Sangheili and the Jiralhanae was far worse than the one between the Ruuhtians and the T'vaoans.

Both Zek and Rezan stood there, at attention, in respectful silence as the Minister and his escorts traveled to the same door the Shipmaster and the human prisoners had exited from. Perhaps the Minister had been hoping to watch the interrogation himself?

At any case, as soon as the Minister had left the room, Zek finally allowed himself to relax.

"Well, this day is certainly turning out to be different," he noted.

"It is certainly a blessed day," Rezan excitedly corrected, his earlier discomfort about the fate of the human prisoners forgotten. "We should consider ourselves lucky Zek: how often do Ruuhtians like us get to see not only the Shipmaster of the entire fleet, but also one of the holy Ministers of the High Council with our very own eyes?"

Zek shot him a confused look. "It is not as if we were able to interact with either of them."

"Yes, but they were close enough for us to be able to bask in their presence!" Rezan retorted, sounding as if he was in a daze and Zek had to resist the urge to snort in exasperation, if only to avoid offending his friend. There were some days where Zek was honestly jealous of Rezan's faith. To be able to believe in an ideal with such certainty? Zek personally could never do it.

But then, there were days like today where he wondered if Rezan was taking it a bit too far with his devotion...

"Well, it pleases me that you are so pleased," Zek said as neutrally as he could.

"I wonder what it would be like to sit on the Council," Rezan unexpectedly asked. "To not only be able to sit side by side the Sangheili as an equal, but to also see the High Prophets in all their glory!"

This time, Zek couldn't stop the derisive laugh that escape his mouth.

"That would be naught but a dream: the Kig-Yar have no presence on the Covenant Council," Zek pointed out. "And even if we did, the Matriarchs would be the ones to become councilors, not you."

"Yes, I know. But, could you just imagine what it would be like?"

Zek tried, he really did, to see what Rezan found so appealing. But when Zek thought of the Council, all he could think of was political power plays, non-stop committee meetings, and endless religious ceremonies, none of which interested Zek in the least. But, then again...

"Well, I suppose it would certainly be more enjoyable than having to trudge through the thick snow, searching for Demons," Zek allowed. "At the very least, it would undoubtedly be _warmer_."

Polishing off the remaining contents of his can, Zek tossed it to the side and climbed to his feet.

"Come Rezan," he declared. "Let's find some place we can warm up before we're forced to return to the cold and -"

**_BOOM!_ **

**_EEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!_ **

The entire building shook as something exploded just outside. Zek looked up in dismay as the grating shrill of an alarm began sounding overhead.

"What is this?" Rezan asked, looking worried. Before Zek could respond -

_"We are under attack!"_ someone yelled. _"All warriors, defensive formations!"_

"Voi paska!" Zek spat out.

"The Minister! We need to protect the Minister!" Rezan screamed.

"I know!" Zek yelled back as he raced for the place he had left his weapon. He shoved his way past several warriors as the entire room had exploded into action. Sangheili commanders were shouting orders, numerous Kig-Yar were preparing their shields, while the Unggoy were all on the verge of panicking.

Reaching the weapon's rack he had left his weapon, Zek was annoyed to find someone else had already claimed his Type-51 carbine. However, sitting in a rack nearby was a Type-50 particle beam rifle and a Type-31 subanese crystal rifle, both of which Zek seized.

"Rezan!" Zek yelled as he tossed the crystal rifle over before glancing at the particle rifle in his hands. It had a full charge; good.

"Zek, we must go!" Rezan screamed and started to head for the door, where the sounds of plasma and blamite fire had erupted, but before Zek and Rezan could get far, a heavy hand landed on their shoulders.

"All Kig-Yar sharpshooters, to the roof!" the Sangheili Major demanded, and with a start, Zek realized because of their weapons, the Sangheili had assumed he and Rezan were sharpshooters. Still, the roof would be further away from the firefight that, from the sounds of, was only being waged just outside, so Zek had no interest in protesting.

"As you command sire!" Zek yelled as he turned and ran for the staircase. He and Rezan began racing up the stairs as every other warrior in the room began pouring out of the building.

"How could the humans have gotten so close!? And how could they have known to strike now, when the Minister was on the planet!?" Rezan demanded to know as they ran, but Zek had no answers.

"I don't know!" Zek yelled back.

"Could there be a traitor among our ranks, informing the humans of our every action?"

"That is not for us to determine! We just need but focus on defending this base!"

Zek reached the top of the stairs and burst through a door, emerging on the roof of the building. By now, the plasma fire had reached a crescendo though strangely enough, Zek wasn't picking up the distinctive sound of human weapons, which was odd as humans were many things, but passive fighters they were not.

Glancing over the side of the roof, Zek quickly found out the reason for the seemingly one sided battle: the human prisoners he had seen earlier had somehow managed to escape their bonds and captured several Covenant weapons, of which they had promptly turned against their former users.

"Heretics in the clear!" Zek screamed. He spotted one human armed with a Type-25 pistol, gunning down a nearby Unggoy and Zek hurried leveled his Type-50 and fired.

**_FWOOZ!_ **

Zek's first shot missed the human entirely, hitting the ground right next to it and leaving a nasty burn mark. Zek's shot did cause the human to duck, and then run for cover, but fortunately Zek's position over the battle meant there was no place for the human to hid.

Re-sighting his rifle, Zek fired once more.

**_FWOOZ!_ **

His beam lanced right through the human, spearing the creature about where the liver on a Kig-Yar would be. The human instantly collapsed, and Zek hurriedly searched for another target. One of the humans must have captured a Type-33 blamite launcher, as the air was filled with subanese projectiles, but Zek was able to trace the rounds back to its source. A human was crouched behind one of the recharging stations, firing at the reinforcements pouring out from the inside of the building. Given the position of the human, Zek didn't have the best shot, so instead, Zek opened fire on the recharging station itself.

**_FWOOZFWOOZFWOOZFWOOZ!_ **

Firing until his rifle grew too hot for him to handle, Zek was nevertheless able to watch as the battery located within the recharging station exploded, taking the human with it.

"There's a human sharpshooter on the bridge!" Rezan suddenly began screaming.

"What!? What bridge!?" Zek distractedly yelled back.

"That one! Over on my side! Over -"

_CRACK!_

"AHHHH!"

Rezan started screaming and Zek looked over in alarm to see blood squirting out from Rezan's hand.

"My hand!" Rezan was screaming. "That ryökäle shot my hand!"

"Where is it!?"

" _That_ bridge!"

Rezan pointed and for the first time, Zek noticed the bridge sitting near the edge of the base's perimeter. Dashing over towards Rezan's side of the roof, Zek began scanning for the human sharpshooter. He spotted a destroyed human aircraft laying in the middle of the bridge and just in front of the aircraft, Zek could just barely make out the figure of a small human. He hurriedly leveled his rifle and -

_CRACK PING!_

"AHH!" Zek let out a shriek of alarm as a bullet struck his Type-50, destroying it completely and sending Zek diving for cover. "VITTU!"

Tossing aside his now useless weapon, Zek grabbed the Type-31 from Rezan, who was still sobbing, "My hand!"

"I know!" Zek frustratedly shouted. "Just keep your head down! We can't leave until that ryökäle human sharpshooter has been eliminated!"

Throwing all caution to the wind, Zek carefully poked his head up, only to see someone else had managed to locate the area the sharpshooter had been firing from. Shells from a Type-30 were bombarding the bridge and of the sharpshooter, Zek saw no sign.

Figuring the human was at least being suppressed enough, Zek grabbed a hold of Rezan.

"Rezan, let's go!" he demanded, and together they stumbled back towards the staircase and back down to the ground floor.

"CLERIC!" Zek began screaming as soon as they reached the ground floor. "CLERIC!"

A Kig-Yar, an Ibie’shan, came running up. "What happened!?"

"He shot my hand! That ryökäle shot my hand!" Rezan immediately screamed and lifting his hand up, Zek was finally able to see how bad it was. And it was bad: the human had somehow managed to sever two of Rezan's three fingers while the third was merely hanging on by a couple strands of flesh. Zek couldn't help but grimace.

"Set him down here!" the Cleric demanded and as Zek helped ease Rezan down to the floor, the Cleric pulled out a medical laser. "This will help!"

Zek anxiously hovered around Rezan as the Cleric worked on trying to stop the bleeding. Meanwhile, plasma fire continued to ring out as the battle raged outside. At one point though, Zek thought he heard the bellowing of an angry Sangheili, but he couldn't tell who or what had been said, so he ignored it.

"Will he need to be evacuated?" Zek demanded to know.

"I don't know yet," the Cleric admitted. "It will depend on the availability of the transports, but ever since these cursed humans have returned to the skies, our fighters have been hard pressed protecting everything. Your bond brother might have to stay here."

Rezan looked worried and Zek couldn't blame him. With the battle raging outside, it only went to show that nowhere was safe, even deep within a firebase. And the last thing Zek would want was to be wounded in the middle of hostile territory, as humans were a bit like jörmungandr: the moment they tasted blood, they went crazy.

The door to the room suddenly opened and Evocatus ‘Quetshadee came running back in. Zek glanced at him, and then did a quick double take. ‘Quetshadee looked _pissed_ while at the same time, absolutely _terrified_ , and that sight scared Zek. What could cause a Sangheili such great terror?

"You, you, you, and you: come with me, right now!" ‘Quetshadee snapped and to Zek's surprise, he was one of the ones ‘Quetshadee had pointed out. Zek was tempted to ask why, but one look at ‘Quetshadee's face and whatever words Zek had were instantly swallowed.

Making sure he had his weapon as well as extra charges, Zek gave Rezan a reassuring pat on the shoulder before running after ‘Quetshadee. Emerging outside, Zek was able to see the source of ‘Quetshadee's distress.

The very Minister Zek had seen mere moments ago was dead. His body was awkwardly sprawled out across the ground while his head... well, it appeared to be all over the place.

Zek was flabbergasted by what he saw. He had never heard of a San'Shyuum being killed while in the field. In fact, a small part of him had been even wondering if they could even _be_ killed. And yet, here one was. No wonder ‘Quetshadee looked so scared. The High Prophets would _not_ be pleased.

Standing around the Minister's body was an entire Lance of some nervous looking Ruuhtians, and one _very_ infuriated Shipmaster.

"Take your File and go hunt down the rest of those insects," ‘Oteree was snarling at a nearby Sangheili. "Slaughter them all: it was a mistake to have taken them prisoner. Evocatus ‘Quetshadee!"

"Sire!"

"The death of our beloved Minister was no doubt by the hands of the Demon." ‘Oteree pointed at the bridge the human sharpshooter had been. "Find it, and **_BRING ME ITS HEAD_**!"

"It shall be done!" ‘Quetshadee turned to the warriors he had gathered. "Warriors, with me! For blood! For vengeance! In the name of the Minister of Contentment!"

With a loud war cry, the File charged forward, covering the distance between them and the bridge in mere moments. Zek wasn't sure what ‘Oteree hoped to achieve as, if the Demon hadn't already been killed, it most undoubtedly would have left the area by now. Nevertheless, he didn't want to direct ‘Quetshadee's ire on to himself, so he kept his questions to himself as he charged forward with everyone else.

Reaching the bridge, ‘Quetshadee began barking out orders.

"You and you, get up there and secure the top," ‘Quetshadee demanded and to Zek's horror, he realized ‘Quetshadee was pointing at him and another Kig-Yar, a T'vaoans Minor. "The rest of us shall protect you from here."

Zek and the T'vaoan exchanged a nervous look.

"NOW!" ‘Quetshadee roared.

Seeing no other option, Zek slowly placed his Type-31 onto his back and got ready to climb onto the top of the bridge. He could only hope his earlier assessment was correct, and the Demon had already left.

Trying to climb as slowly as he could without making it seem like he was dragging his feet, Zek carefully ascended. The top of the bridge came faster than he could have imagined, and the next thing he knew, he was moments from swinging over the side and onto the top of the bridge.

Praying to whatever Gods that were listening, Zek and the T'vaoan exchanged one last look, and Zek made the Kig-Yar hand sign for good luck, one that the T'vaoan returned. Inhaling sharply, Zek abruptly leapt onto the bridge -

\- and found himself standing there with no Demons or humans in sight. He let out a sigh of relief.

"The area is safe!" Zek called out over the edge. The response was not quite what he expected.

"What!? How could there be no one there!?"

Zek exchanged a startled look with the T'vaoan. He didn't know what to say.

There was a loud grunt that caused Zek to jump in fright, and he looked around to see ‘Quetshadee and the rest of the File awkwardly climbing over the edge of the bridge. ‘Quetshadee in particular seemed to be having quite a bit of trouble, and briefly Zek wondered if he should help, but then he realized any such help from him would cause ‘Quetshadee great humiliation, humiliation ‘Quetshadee would feel the need to return in kind, so all Zek did was turn away and awkwardly wait for ‘Quetshadee to right himself.

"How can there be no one here!?" ‘Quetshadee demanded to know the moment he was upright. To Zek's surprise, ‘Quetshadee actually sounded indignant, like he wanted a Demon to have been here, which was abnormal to Zek. As bloodthirsty as Sangheili were, Zek would have thought even an Evocatus would have been hesitant to face a Demon in close combat.

Insight occurred to Zek in a flash. It wasn't so much as ‘Quetshadee wanted to fight a Demon, it was more he needed a body to present to the High Prophets when the High Prophets demanded blood in retribution for the loss of one of their kind. And if ‘Quetshadee or the Shipmaster couldn't present a Demon head to the High Prophets...

"Spread out!" ‘Quetshadee roared. "Find the Demon!"

At this point, Zek was absolutely sure the Demon was long gone, but he wasn't about to argue. Lifting his Type-31, he feebly began kicking the snow around, trying to make it look as if he was searching for clues, without actually having too.

"Evocatus! I have discovered something!"

Zek's head snapped up at the call. It was that T'vaoan Minor, the one that had initially climbed up to the bridge with Zek. The T'vaoan was crouched by that destroyed human aircraft that Zek remembered seeing during the fight.

"This must have been where the Demon was firing from," the T'vaoan reported, pointing at a small imprint in the snow as well as the yellow metal cylinders all human weapons seemed to leave behind.

"The coward," he added as an afterthought.

The rest of the File growled their agreement, however Zek took one look at the imprint and resist the urge to snort.

"That's not the mark of a Demon," he muttered under his breath.

"What did you say Kig-Yar!?"

Zek jumped and looked around wildly, only to see ‘Quetshadee staring at him with an intense look on his face. Oh no. Did ‘Quetshadee actually hear him?

"Nothing of importance sire," Zek tried to assure him, but ‘Quetshadee clearly was not believing him.

"No," ‘Quetshadee growled. "You said this was not the mark of a Demon. Explain, now!"

Realizing there was no way around it, Zek opened his mouth to elaborate.

"The Holy Scriptures are very clear about the description of the Demons sire," Zek quickly said, trying to remember everything the Holy Scriptures of the Covenant had said, only it had been a long time since Zek had bothered looking at them, and he was regretting that decision now. Still, it sounded plausible and ‘Quetshadee didn’t seemed inclined to remove his head, so Zek continued.

"As stated by the Scriptures, Demons are large terrifying beast of the Uncleaned," Zek recited from memory. "’Their hides are as thick as armor and colored as green as that of the Parasites. Their faces are covered by those souls who have been abandoned and set aflame by the fires of the Great Journey, and their bodies are weighed down by the sins of the Heretics.’"

Zek pointed at the imprint in the ground. "That? That was not made by any Demon. It's too shallow for that. This surely was made by a mere human."

"You dare claim our beloved Minister was assassinated by a mere human!?" ‘Quetshadee demanded.

Zek nervously swallowed. "I do, sire."

‘Quetshadee seemed to have been taken by surprised by Zek's answer, because he immediately calmed down.

"And how would you know what a Demon would look like, Kig-Yar," he demanded to know, staring at Zek through narrow eyes.

"I... I have seen them sire. With my own eyes. I was aboard the _Hammer_ when the Demons dare defile her," Zek stammered.

‘Quetshadee took a closer look at Zek, and seemingly for the first time, noticed the Fleet insignia imprinted on Zek's armor.

"So you were..." he growled, before whirling around on the first T'vaoan. "This one claims this is the mark of a mere human! What say _you!?_ "

The T'vaoan nervously glanced in Zek's direction, and Zek felt his heart freeze as he realized what this T'vaoan was about to do. No! In order to save face, this T'vaoan would claim Zek was nothing but a liar and that he was the one that was correct! Stupid, traitorous T'vaoans -

"I believe this Ruuhtian is correct in his analysis sire, and I, premature in my judgement," the T'vaoan nervously admitted. "I humbly beg thee for forgiveness."

...huh. That was... unexpected.

‘Quetshadee growled, and at first Zek thought he was about lash out, but all he said was, “Then we must report this to the Shipmaster.”

With that, he clambered off the bridge, leaving the rest of the File to follow. Zek waited until everyone else had left, until it was just him and the T’vaoan, before turning to his fellow Kig-Yar. As much as he disliked T’vaoans, Zek supposed he should at least thank this one for reinforcing his conclusion, even if doing so might have cost the T’vaoan his life.

“Thank you,” Zek simply said. “I am Zek. You are?”

The T’vaoan grinned. “I am also Zek,” he said.

It took Zek a moment to understand. The T’vaoan’s name was also Zek, though undoubtedly it was spelling the T’vaoan way of “Ziik” instead of “Zek.”

“You are very different from the rest of your people Ziik,” Zek couldn’t help but note. Ziik made a gesticulation.

“Perhaps you don’t know the T’vaoans as well as you think you do,” he said simply. “We need to return to the base.”

“I agree,” Zek said. He waited until Ziik had leapt from the top of the bridge. Taking one last look around the area, Zek moved to follow him.

Dashing through the snow, Zek rejoined the rest of the File near where the Minister’s body still laid. ‘Oteree stood over the body, staring at the former Minister with a furious expression on his face, though he looked up as ‘Quetshadee and the rest of the File approached.

“Well?” he demanded.

“The cowards have fled,” ‘Quetshadee reported and Zek could hear ‘Oteree grinding his teeth in anger. “But I will be able to track them.”

“Do so,” ‘Oteree hissed. “I want the Demon prostrated on the ground in front of me by the end of this planet’s cycle.”

Zek could see ‘Quetshadee hesitating ever so slightly, a move that ‘Oteree also noticed.

“Speak.”

“It was not a Demon,” ‘Quetshadee reluctantly reported.

Zek reflexively took a nervous step back as ‘Oteree whirled around.

“Explain,” ‘Oteree growled.

“We searched for signs of a Demon. We found none. Instead, we found signs that a _human_ had taken position on the bridge, and that a _human_ was responsible for the murder of our beloved Minister.”

‘Oteree stared closely at ‘Quetshadee. “And you are sure of this?”

Zek could see ‘Quetshadee’s eyes flicker towards him ever so slightly, and Zek mentally braced himself to have to try and explain his reasoning again, but this time to a much more deadly Shipmaster. But ultimately, that didn’t happen as ‘Quetshadee said instead –

“I am sure.”

‘Oteree merely grunted in acknowledgement, leaving Zek to silently sigh in relief.

The meeting was suddenly interrupted by a loud commotion, and Zek looked around to see an entire Lance of Special Operations Sangheili approaching them, with a single Sangheili Minor and two T’vaoans in tow. Zek recognized the T’vaoans as the two perimeter guards that had first accosted his File when they had initially arrived at the firebase.

“Shipmaster,” one of the Sangheili, a Special Operations Officer, spoke up. “We found the path the Demon took to infiltrate our base –“

“Human,” ‘Oteree interrupted. The Officer paused.

“Pardon, sire?”

“It was no Demon, it was a human,” ‘Oteree growled. “A mere human was allowed to penetrate our defenses, _and assassinate our Minister!”_

‘Oteree lurched towards the Officer, who automatically took a step back in alarm.

“Who was guarding that sector of the perimeter!?!?” ‘Oteree demanded to know. The Officer wordlessly gestured at the two T’vaoans, who immediately whimpered as ‘Oteree turned his attention to them.

“You two were the guards?” ‘Oteree demanded. At once, both T’vaoans threw themselves onto the ground in front of him.

“Mercy sire!” the Major begged. “We were but replacements for the one who had abandoned his position!” The Major pointed a talon in the Sangheili Minor’s direction. “He and his File were the ones that should have been guarding the perimeter, not us! The blame lies with him!”

‘Oteree looked up at the Sangheili as the two T’vaoans continued to beg. Then, with a speed that Zek almost failed to follow, ‘Oteree whipped out his plasma sword and swiftly decapitated both T’vaoans in a single blow. His sword was deactivated and back on his hip by the time the T’vaoans heads hit the ground, and it took about everything Zek had to avoid flinching as their bodies followed soon after.

“You,” ‘Oteree growled as he casually stepped over the rapidly cooling corpses of the T’vaoans. “Who are you?”

“I am Minor Kitun ‘Refumee,” the Minor proudly declared. Zek could see ‘Oteree staring very closely at him.

“You are of House ‘Refumee, are you not?”

“I am,” ‘Refumee replied.

“House ‘Refumee is a proud and noble clan,” ‘Oteree declared. “I have proudly led many of your clanmates into glorious battle after glorious battle, where they have won glory and honor for themselves, and for that of your House.”

“As I have heard,” ‘Refumee replied, bowing his head slightly.

“Yet, you have chosen to dishonor your ancestors by abandoning your sworn and scared duty?” ‘Oteree rumbled, reminding Zek very much of a volcano that was about to erupt. Zek carefully began taking a few steps backwards as he waited for the explosion, but unfortunately for ‘Refumee, he didn’t seem to notice. “Explain yourself.”

“There was an explosion,” ‘Refumee explained. “Several of our warriors were killed or injured. Not only did they require aid, the explosion matched that of several cowardly traps set by the Demons. I knew your orders, and I knew my duty: I had to investigate.”

“So you abandoned your post? You vacated the defenses of this very firebase and allowed a human, _a mere human!_ to infiltrate our defenses and arrive within striking distance of our beloved Minister!?!?” ‘Oteree snarled.

‘Refumee stiffened. “I did what was expected of me,” he insisted. “Shipmaster, surely you would have done the same in my position.”

**“Do not presume to know what I may or may not have done in your position you insolent childling!”** ‘Oteree abruptly roared, causing all present to hastily rear back. **“You abandoned your post in order to seek personal glory, but all you have done is brought shame and dishonor to your House! Because of your _failure_ , your clan’s name will forever be associated with disgrace and degradation!** **House ‘Refumee’s saga wall will forever be stricken from the records! The proud history of House ‘Refumee: forever discredited! Your clanmates, casted out from their ancestral homes and treated no better than mere Unggoy! All because _YOU_ could not refrain from indulging in your narcissist desires!”**

Zek could practically hear ‘Refumee’s arrogance _snap_ , as the full weight of his failure abruptly cascaded over him, and he began to sweat. The smell of fresh fear began to permeate the air.

“I will regain my honor by the victories I shall achieve on this very battlefield!” ‘Refumee desperately declared, but ‘Oteree shook his head.

“No. You shall not,” he bluntly said. “For a failure of his magnitude, there is but one recourse left for you.”

Zek jumped as ‘Quetshadee abruptly pulled out a deactivated energy long knife, and handed the hilt over to ‘Oteree, who took it and shoved it against ‘Refumee’s chest.

“You know what to do,” was all he said, before walking away.

Zek could see ‘Refumee was practically crying as he stared at the hilt, and then up at ‘Quetshadee’s unsympathetic face, before slowly nodding. At that, ‘Refumee turned around and began removing his combat harness. Zek would have stood there, watching more, if not for ‘Quetshadee turning around to glare at the remaining Covenant warriors in the area, and Zek abruptly realized he need to make himself scarce.

He quickly scurried away, but before he could get too far, he heard the sound of an energy blade being activated, followed by the sounds of someone grunting in pain. The smell of burning flesh started to fill Zek’s nostrils, and he almost turned around to find out why, when he heard another energy blade behind activated before it was swung through the air. The sound of a body hitting the ground made Zek decide he wasn’t actually all that interested in what was going on, and he quickly ran off to go check up on Rezan.

As he left, he could hear ‘Oteree bellowing, “ _Find the Demon! And find the human assassin! I want both brought to me…_

**_ALIVE!”_ **

* * *

General Notes

**Rangers:** in case it wasn’t clear, the Ranger team mentioned at the beginning of the chapter is named after the Marvel Cinematic Universe lineup of the Avengers Team (“Romanova" being the female and proper version of the name “Romanoff" and the name one of the Black Widows goes by in the comics, while “Wōden" is the Old English and Old Saxon way of spelling “Odin.”) No particular reason for the reference, only that I thought it was amusing.


	17. The Great Escape

**Covenant designated Landing Zone: Deliverance  
Forerunner Designated World: MS 222-53 a  
9th Age of Reclamation  
9th Cycle of the Planet’s Rotation**

**Zek**

"File, CEASE FIRE!"

Zek poked his head out from behind the wall he had taken cover behind. The human armored vehicle that had been firing on them had finally stopped, and was now sitting motionless on the road. A multitude of holes had been blasted into the vehicle's armor, leaving it torn up and smoking, but even then, Zek couldn't be sure if the gunner inside had been killed or not. If it had been just a human inside, then the area was safe. If it had been the Demon however... well, Zek had seen firsthand just how hard Demons were to kill.

"Kig-Yar, inspect that vehicle!" a nearby Sangheili roared.

It took Zek a few moments to realize the Sangheili's orders were directed at him, but once he did, Zek hurriedly sprang into action. Lifting his needle rifle, Zek cautiously approached the human vehicle and took a deep breath, before glancing inside. He half expected to instantly get shot, but fortunately, all he saw was a dead human sitting in one of the seats. Red blood was dripping from several holes in the human's chest, causing a pool to form underneath it. The human must have been one of the prisoners from Firebase Reformation, as the human was lacking armor and weapons aside from a Sangheili issued Type-25 plasma rifle, but whether or not this human had been the one to assassinate the Minister, Zek honestly couldn't tell.

Even though the human was very clearly dead, Zek nevertheless lifted his rifle and shot the human once more in the head, just for good measure. At this point in the day and after everything Zek had been through so far, he was no longer willing to take any more chances if he could avoid it.

The human's head snapped to the side but aside from that, the alien didn't move at all. Satisfied the creature was _actually_ dead, Zek hurriedly left the vehicle.

"Vehicle is safe sire!" Zek reported.

"Is the Demon inside!?" the same Sangheili from before demanded to know.

"No sire!" Zek yelled back.

The Sangheili snarled. "Damnations! The Demon is escaping! File, advance!"

The entire file of Covenant warriors surged forward down the street in the direction the humans and the Demons had gone. Their path was easy enough to follow, as their footprints were still very fresh in the snow, though where they thought they would be going, Zek had no idea. His only thought was that if he valued his head, he would do his best to stop them.

As he hopped out of the human vehicle, Zek reflexively looked around for Rezan, only to remember Rezan was still at the firebase, getting his hand fixed. Zek mentally wished him the best, and prayed he would be able to see Rezan one more time before Rezan was evacuated off this planet; for now, Zek had to focus on the task at hand.

"Forward! Forward!" the Sangheili were roaring as they shoved all the warriors ahead of them. "Advance!"

Zek hastily dashed forward to avoid getting struck by the Sangheili, though he did so with a fair amount of reluctance. He didn't like this idea of charging blindly forward in the wake of the Demon's path without knowing what was ahead of them. After all, the Demons had proved time after time they were unafraid of being pursued, and would often times turn around and set up an ambush for their pursuers.

However, there was no chance of slowing things down. The Shipmaster was furious and demanding retribution for the death of the Minister and as a simple foot soldier, Zek was expected to deliver. So he ran alongside everyone else, praying whenever he rounded a corner that it would not be him that was killed.

**_CRACK!_ **

The Unggoy directly in front of him suddenly collapsed, screaming in pain as he was struck by gunfire. Zek immediately dove to the side as more bullets tore up the street around him.

Vittu! Zek knew this was going to happen!

"INTERACTION!" Zek heard a Sangheili cry out as he scrambled back to safety around the corner of the wall. "HERETICS! ON THE HIGH!"

Cautiously poking his head around the corner, Zek spotted muzzle flashes coming from the human structure built for their ground-confined vehicles. Leveling his rifle, Zek experimentally fired a few shots in the direction most of the gunfire was coming from, but the angle was all wrong and all his blamite rounds did was shatter against the concrete.

Zek swore. He needed some height.

As he backed up around the corner to reload, a nearby Unggoy shoved past him and swung out around the corner to try and shoot back. Unsurprisingly, the Unggoy immediately collapsed, a smoking wound in his abdomen. However, what did surprise Zek was the fact the Unggoy had been hit by plasma, not the expected gunfire.

Zek felt a thrill of excitement at the sight. Surely it was the Demon that was firing the captured plasma rifle.

Poking his head around the corner once more even as another Unggoy dashed out to try and rescue his screaming friend, Zek desperately tried to spot where the plasma fire was coming from; even as he did his best to avoid getting struck by gunfire. He need not have worried though, as another file of Covenant warriors had appeared from a different direction, and had drawn the gunfire to them. As for the Demon's position, Zek had very little luck until -

**_FWOOZ!_ **

"AIEEE!"

The Unggoy that had tried to rescue his friend abruptly let out a loud scream as he too was struck by more plasma fire. The two Unggoy laid there in the street, screaming pitifully, but Zek ignored them as he focused on where the plasma bolt had originated from. It appeared to have come from the floor directly below the one with all the gunfire and while it was a little hard to see because of the shadows, Zek could just barely spot the silhouette of a humanoid figure moving about. Whether or not it was the Demon, Zek couldn't tell from where he was, but it was a good starting point.

Ducking back into safety, Zek spotted Evocatus ‘Quetshadee charging down the street, leading yet another file of Covenant warriors, and waved him down.

"Sire! I think I spotted the Demon!" Zek yelled.

"Where?" the ‘Quetshadee demanded to know.

"I believe the Demon is on the fifth floor sire!" Zek shouted, pointing around the corner. It's firing a captured Type-25 plasma rifle!"

"Show me!"

Zek didn't bother arguing. Rounding the corner, he started firing his rifle in the direction he had seen the muzzle flashes, hoping ‘Quetshadee was paying attention.

**_FWOOZ!_ **

The Demon returned fire, and Zek hastily ducked, but fortunately the plasma hadn't been directed at him. Instead, it had been fired at a nearby Unggoy trying to cross the street. The bolt smashed against the Unggoy's belt where he was storing his Type-1 grenades, setting them off.

"Vittu!" Zek yelled as the Unggoy exploded, showering the street with body parts.

For his part, ‘Quetshadee seemed to ignore the fighting and instead, reached a hand up to his helmet.

"Shipmaster: primary target has been located," he declared as Zek leveled his rifle to try and obtain a shot. "Affirmative. It shall be done! Kig-Yar!"

Zek jumped and ducked back into cover. "Sire?"

"Obtain a higher vantage point and eliminate the Demon!"

Zek was hardly going to argue the point, but still, he couldn't help but ask, "But sire, were we not supposed to capture the Demon alive?"

"The Shipmaster has declared otherwise! The High Prophets will need solely be satisfied with the Demon's head! Now follow my commands Kig-Yar!"

“By your will!”

Zek sprang into action. Ignoring all the other warriors dashing in the direction of the fighting, Zek ran towards the nearest building. Smashing in the door with the butt of his rifle, he dashed up the nearest flight of stairs at a full sprint. Bursting through the door at the top, Zek found himself on the roof. He quickly looked around.

Directly in front of him was the building where the Demon was taking shelter. At the moment, the Demon was exchanging fire with a pair of T'vaoan warriors taking shelter on a rooftop across the street from Zek. As Zek watched, the T'vaoans whirled out from behind the small structure they were using for cover and began firing their rifles on the human building. Zek followed the path of their blamite rounds to see what they were shooting at, only to see a single human figure working on attaching a series of... something to the columns. What that something was, Zek had no idea, but he didn't care. As the figure returned fire, Zek leveled his rifle and began to draw a bead on the creature, but then paused as he realized the figure was far too small to be the Demon. Where was the Demon?

Deciding two T'vaoans were more than a match for a mere human, Zek opted not to reveal his presence just yet as he searched for where the Demon could be hiding. Was this all a simple distraction? But for what purpose? Based on all the communications chatter, several files were closing in from all sides on this position, making an escape for the Demon unlikely. Surely the Demon had to have known that, so why did –

Zek abruptly noticed the ship. He initially didn't see it because it was rather dark in the building and he had thought it was part of the wall, but as he looked over the entire structure for the Demon, one of the humans fired again and in the brief glow of the muzzle flash, he spotted the distinct form of a human dropship.

"They have a ship!" Zek exclaimed out loud in surprise. That explained why the humans had retreated here to this structure. They must have known this ship was here! He quickly grabbed his communicator.

"Evocatus 'Quetshadee!" he shouted. "The Demon has a ship inside that structure!"

"What!?"

"There's a ship!" Zek repeated, staring at the vessel in question. Now that he was paying attention, he could actually see the dropship vibrating, indicating its engines were active. But if that was the case, why hadn't they lifted off yet?

**_POOOOSSHHHH!_ **

At the distinct sound of a human rocket being launched, Zek dove for cover. He looked up to see a number of rockets launching from the floor the ship was on and flying in all directions, one of which headed directly for the structure he had seen the T'vaoans taking cover behind.

"Brother, WATCH OUT!" Zek reflexively screamed even though there was no way for the T'vaoans to hear him from this distance over the sounds of all the fighting.

He watched as the rocket slammed into the cover and penetrated through the other side, forcing the T'vaoans to dive to the side. Strangely enough, the rocket failed to explode but it hardly mattered as the T'vaoans were now in the open, something the humans were quick to exploit. Plasma began raining down all around one of the T'vaoans, and Zek watched as his comrade snapped his rifle up, but just as he was about to pull the trigger a bolt smashed into his rifle, causing it to explode. Zek could see a single blamite round shoot straight up into the T'vaoan's head, killing him instantly.

"Ryökäle!" Zek snarled and started to bring his rifle to bear, but then -

**_POOOOSSHHHH!_ **

The sound of more rockets firing sent Zek scrambling for the ground. Rockets sped in all directions, a few of which passed right over Zek's roof, and he laid there with his arms covering his head as he waited for the explosion.

**_THUNK!_ **

Zek jumped as one of the rockets slammed into the ground right next to him. Letting out a cry of alarm, Zek started to scramble away on his hands and knees, but in his heart he knew it was going to be too late. As the rocket motor flared out, Zek slowly closed his eyes and waited for death...

…which never came.

After a few heartbeats, Zek cracked his eyelids open to see he was still alive, and that the rocket was just sitting there, smoking.

At first, Zek just sat there, unsure of what to do. Eventually, his curiosity took over and he scrambled to his feet and slowly approached the projectile.

Poking at it with the barrel of his rifle, he leapt back in alarm as the rocket body toppled over, revealing -

"They've got no explosives," Zek exclaimed as he realized the rocket was missing its head. "They've got no explosives! They're all duds!"

Feeling invigorated, Zek grabbed his rifle and turned around to engage the humans, secure in the fact they couldn't hit him. He searched for the figure that had been standing on the floor below where the ship had been, only the human wasn't there any longer. He started searching, only to see the human running up a nearby flight of stairs.

Taking a deep breath, Zek slowly exhaled as he took aim. Almost... there...

"Kig-Yar!"

Zek nearly jumped out of his skin at the angry shout behind him. He whirled around, only to see both Evocatus 'Quetshadee and Shipmaster 'Oteree emerging from the stairwell behind him.

"Where is the Demon!?" 'Oteree demanded to know as Zek did his best to resist the urge to curse them out.

"I think the Demon is in that ship over there sire!" Zek yelled, jabbing his rifle in the human's direction. "I think they're about to leave!"

"DISABLE THAT SHIP!"

'With what?' Zek wanted to ask, but he dared not. Instead, he leapt to his feet and whirled around in time to see one of the humans running towards the ship at a dead sprint.

Zek’s rifle instantly appeared in his hands and he reflexively fired a single round. It was a perfect shot. He didn't see the round hit, but the human instantly dropped like an apple falling off the tree. Moments later, the door to the ship slammed closed.

"DESTROY THAT SHIP, NOW!" 'Oteree roared and Zek started unloading his rifle on the ship. Unfortunately his weapon was hardly designed to engage armor, so all his projectiles did was shatter against the dropship's hull. Nevertheless, Zek continued firing until he was out of ammo.

The cover to his magazine automatically popped open, and Zek started to reload, but before he could complete the motion, the ground suddenly trembled, causing him to stumble.

Alarmed, Zek looked up in time to see the human building beginning to fall apart as a series of explosions destroyed the columns holding the building up. Was that the Shipmaster's doing?

Before Zek could ask, the building abruptly collapsed! Zek could see chunks of concrete landing and shattering against the dropship's hull, and just as Zek was about to celebrate the destruction of the Demon, the ship's engines flared, abruptly launching straight out of the doomed building like a top on a bottle! Zek started shooting again, but before he could fire off more than a couple of shots, the ship did a near ninety degree turn skyward and launched itself vertically, straight into the air towards orbit.

Zek desperately unloaded the rest of his magazine at the dropship, but the human ship was far too fast for him to hit, and all of his rounds fell short.

Lowering his empty rifle, Zek watched as the human ship flew through the air before it finally disappeared into the darkness of the night.

Feeling a sinking sensation deep within his torso, Zek slowly turned around to see how 'Oteree would react to his inability to stop the ship.

'Oteree was standing on the roof, staring at the spot the human ship had disappeared to, with a look of absolute fury on his face. Before Zek could say anything, 'Oteree abruptly pulled out a communicator and brought it up to his mouth.

"Destroy that ship," he snarled and overhead, Zek could hear the howl of Banshee fighters starting to close in from all directions...

**XXXXX**

**UNSC _Moonlight Sonata_ _,_ High Orbit, Actium**

**Luzader**

"Commander, sir?"

Luzader looked up from his display, where he was impatiently waiting for another status report from Captain Rogers. "What is it, Lieutenant?"

"Sir, you wanted me to inform you the moment anything... unusual occurred within the city," his TAO reminded him. "Well, sir, we've just picked up the signature of a Pelican launch."

"And? Pelicans are launching and landing all over the place."

"It’s launching from behind enemy lines, sir."

That caught Luzader's attention.

"Put it on screen!" he demanded, climbing to his feet as his tired bridge staff began stirring themselves to full alert.

The main screen abruptly winked on, revealing an image of a single UNSC Pelican rapidly rising up from the ground. The Pelican had clearly seen some action at one point: it had plasma scoring all over its hull and it had some deep scratches in its dorsal and lateral armor plating, as if someone had taken a giant cheese grater to it. Also, Luzader could see the two Anvil rocket pods the Pelican had were completely depleted, indicating it had been in a fight at some point.

"Do we have comms?" Luzader asked as a sense of hope began to well up within. Surely this couldn't be a coincidence?

"No, sir, but the Pelican is broadcasting a valid IFF tag. Tag identifies it as... registration four five zero zero x-ray which, according to our records, is an Air Force D77-TC dropship assigned to the No. 22 Airlift Squadron, which in turn was assigned to the UNSC _Gerald Young_ , a _Gökçen_ -class attack transport that arrived in system nearly fourteen hours ago. However..." Luzader could see his TAO frowning. "Sir, that Pelican was reported as having been shot down nearly twelve hours ago."

Luzader could feel a sense of excitement beginning to spread through his entire body. A Pelican that had been shot down behind enemy lines suddenly coming back to life? Covenant Elites never used human equipment, even if the alternative was death, and regular rank and file soldiers wouldn't know how to repair a Pelican and get it flying again. There could only be one possibility of who was inside that ship... a Spartan.

But he had to be sure.

"Reroute our nearest drone," Luzader commanded. "Let's see if we can't get visual of the cockpit- "

"Sir, look!" the TAO exclaimed. "The Pelican run lights!"

Luzader snapped his head up to see the run lights on the Pelican were blinking in a systematic pattern. It wasn't hard to figure out what it was.

"That's Morse code!" Luzader snapped. "Get me a translation!"

"Already on it, sir!" his TAO cried. "Looks like it's a series of numbers, sir, then a single letter, followed by three more numbers: eight niner six three five seven seven zero one seven Sierra zero six two."

The Lieutenant continued to say something else, but Luzader was no longer listening because at that moment, the world seemed to freeze as the significance of those numbers hit him like an ice cold bath.

"That's Maria's service number!" he blurted out. "That's classified information; only one person could have known that number! That's it, those are the Spartans!"

"Sir!" another technician suddenly screamed. "I'm picking up enemy signatures: Banshees, closing in fast!"

"On screen!"

The image on the screen zoomed out to reveal -

"God almighty," someone whispered as they spotted over fifty Banshees closing in fast on the damaged Pelican. There was no way a single Pelican could hope to survive against those odds, even with a Spartan at the helm.

"We need air support and we need it _now,"_ Luzader declared. "Lieutenant, what assets do we have in the area!?"

"A reconnaissance drone and that's it, sir!" his Lieutenant snapped. "But there are several Air Force and Marine Corps fighters in -"

"Get me Spaatz!" Luzader snapped.

To his immense irritation, Kanin, not Spaatz, appeared on his screen.

_"Lieutenant Commander,"_ Kanin politely began. _"To what do we owe -"_

"Kanin, connect me to Admiral Spaatz, _now!"_ Luzader roughly interrupted. Kanin stiffened.

_"Commander, I apologize,"_ he respectfully began, _"however the Admiral has -"_

"ONI executive override Echo Tango Sierra one one seven Hotel niner niner three, November Zulu Foxtrot seven!” Luzader spat out.

_“…override accepted. Connecting you now, sir.”_

_“Commander Luzader?”_ Spaatz’s surprised voice immediately sounded over the airwaves. _“What in the hell…?”_

“Admiral, I need your help, and I need it now,” Luzader hurriedly said. “Long story short: there’s a Pelican rising up from the surface of Actium, and I have reason to believe that it contains at least one member of Spartan Team Argon. I need you to redeploy whatever assets you have right now to protect that dropship!!”

To Luzader’s immense relief, Spaatz didn’t bother wasting time asking stupid questions.

_"Kanin, what assets do we have in the vicinity?"_

_"Broadswords, sir, from the Air Force's No. 87 Fighter Squadron, call sign: Omega Flight."_

_"Send them in."_

_"Aye, sir, rerouting now!"_

"Sir, with the amount of Bandits closing in on my Pelican, I'm going to need more than one squadron," Luzader warned.

In response, his console abruptly chimed.

_"Whatever assets I have in the general AO,"_ Spaatz quickly explained. _"I'm hereby authorizing you command override to divert whatever and whoever you need to. I authenticate..."_

"Lieutenant Bellawood, start routing those fighters!" Luzader yelled before Spaatz could even finish.

"Yes, sir! Smithy, started connecting to all these units, just go straight down the line! O'Malley, start rerouting and get fighters over there to make me a flight corridor!"

“Aye aye, Lieutenant! Actium Defense Command to call sign Easy Red: divert to heading..."

"...authenticate Tango Whiskey..."

"Orders are to engage all hostiles..."

"...priority one: protect that Pelican!"

Luzader stared intently at the main screen as his entire bridge exploded with activity as his crew began diverting one squadron after another towards that single Pelican rocketing its way towards high orbit. Enemy Banshees were still closing in from all directions, but just behind them, friendly contacts was starting to fill the screen as squadron after squadron were yanked off their current missions and diverted.

"Hang in there Spartan," Luzader whispered. "Hang in there. Help is on the way..."

**XXXXX**

**Thracia Province, Actium**

**Zelda**

_"Cyclops, this is Omega Flight: inbound, your station, sixty seconds!"_

Zelda hastily leveled out his Broadsword as he followed Odessa to the target area.

_"6, this is you,"_ Odessa said over the radio. _"Move into attack position and standby to engage!"_

"Copy, into attack, seven klicks out," Zelda coolly replied as he reached out and armed four of the bombs he was carrying. "Pickle is hot… bomb bay doors are open..."

His Broadsword shook as a fuel rod cannon exploded nearby, but Zelda ignored it as he focused most of his attention on the counter counting down the distance to his target. He didn't really know what he was about to bomb. Apparently it was a large concentration of Covenant soldiers or something, but whatever it was, Zelda knew it was going to get erased when he dropped his four Mark 211, 1000 kilogram bombs in three... two... one...

"Bombs away bombs away bombs away!" Zelda yelled as he started to pick up the slack on his trigger...

**_"ABORT ABORT ABORT!!!"_ **

“ABORTING!”

With flashbacks to Byzas Station flashing through his mind, Zelda didn't think, he just reacted. Snatching away his finger like his trigger was on fire, he yanked his control yoke to the right and banked _hard_ , breaking off from his approach.

"What the fuck!" Zelda exclaimed as soon as he was clear. He hurriedly disarmed his bombs and closed his bomb bay doors. "What the fucking shit was that? Why the fuck did those goddamn Cunt Munchers clear us hot, then immediately abort!?!?”

_“I don’t fucking know man, fucking weekend warriors don’t know what the fuck they’re doing I guess. See, this is why I’m saying every fucking mud crunching unit has got to have a TACP assigned to them!”_ Odessa snarled

Zelda viciously nodded as he leveled out.

_“Uh… Omega Flight? Cyclops: where the fuck are our bombs!?”_

“Where the fuck do you think they went you fucking dumbass!” Zelda raged as he reached for the talk button on his radio, but then paused. “What the… hang on. Odessa that abort order came from FLEETCOM!”

_“Impossible,”_ Odessa immediately retorted. _“We got transferred back to ODC the moment we hit atmo!”_

“I can only tell you what I read buddy!” Zelda exclaimed. “6 to Leader: are you seeing this? Is this for real?"

_"It is,"_ Bellum confirmed. _"I don't know what's going on, but we're getting a divert order directly from FLEETCOM HQ."_

That made Zelda shut up and sit up straight. FLEETCOM Headquarters? That meant the orders came directly from Admiral Lukas Spaatz, supreme commander of every military unit assigned to the entire _system_. What the hell was he doing ordering individual fighter squadrons around?

_"Orders are still trickling in, but all fighters, divert to heading two nine two degrees and punch it!"_ Bellum snapped.

"What the hell is going on?" Zelda couldn't help but ask as he came about. "Where does the Supreme Commander get off on ordering us around like that!? Doesn't he have warships to play with!?"

_"Might not be from the big man himself,"_ Odessa suggested but Zelda shook his head.

"No man," Zelda argued. "FLEETCOM? That's definitely Spaatz."

_"Alright, listen up guys!"_ Bellum barked. _"Apparently there's a high priority Pelican trying to make it to high orbit. Our objective is to ensure that happens, no matter what."_

"With what?" Zelda immediately retorted. "We're not currently configured for air to air combat; Command yanked us to do CAS missions!"

_"We're just going to have to figure it out!"_ Bellum insisted. _"Orders are: protect the Pelican. All other concerns are secondary."_

Zelda let out a string of curses as he glanced at his computer. Aside from all the bombs and ATGMs he was carrying he had six short-range anti-air missiles for self-defense purposes. What was he supposed to do, ram anything that so much as looked at the Pelican funny? Plus…

“Didn’t we do something like this once already today?”

_“Guess we get to do it again,”_ Odessa replied with a verbal shrug.

_“Good news is, we’re not the only ones being called in to support,”_ Bellum continued, _“but we are the closest. So lock it down and get ready to be thrown back into the shit!”_

Zelda gritted his teeth. This was not going to end well.

_"Leader, this is 12, be advised: I'm picking up multiple Bandits on my long range sensors!"_

_"Yeah, I see them too!"_ Bellum confirmed. _"All Broadswords: punch it! We're going straight in!"_

As Zelda activated his afterburners, he glanced at his long distance radar to see how many Bandits they were up against, and felt the saliva in his mouth dry up a little.

"That's a lot of fighters," Zelda noted.

_"No shit. Must be every damn Banshee on the fucking planet!"_

_"Anyone got eyes on the package!?"_ Bellum yelled as they approached the outer edge of the swarm.

Zelda looked around.

"Negative..." he started to say. ”Wait! Thirty degrees up, maybe two klicks away!"

_"What... okay, I see it!"_ Bellum yelled.

_"Jesus Christ,"_ someone else muttered and Zelda couldn't blame him.

The lead Banshees had already gotten to within engagement distance of the Pelican and had promptly opened fire, throwing all sorts of plasma and fuel rod cannons in the Pelican's direction. The Pelican was evading with a sense of grace Zelda hadn't realized dropships were capable of, dodging all the incoming fire with all sorts of loops and rolls, all the while continuing to angle up towards the upper atmosphere. Unfortunately for the Pelican though, a number of Banshee flights had been cruising towards the area at a much higher altitude, and upon reaching the engagement envelope of their weapons, began diving on the Pelican, forcing the dropship to break off.

"That Pelican isn't going to be able to continue climbing with those Banshees in the way!" Zelda warned.

_"I'm not even worried about the Banshees. If this keeps up, that Pelican won't be able to build up enough speed to reach escape velocity!_ " Bellum pointed out.

"Fuck! Well, what's the plan here then boss!?"

_"Go loud! We got to draw the attention of those Banshees off the package and onto us! Omega Flight: you are weapons free!"_

Zelda immediately dropped his crosshairs over one of the furthest Banshees and pulled the trigger

"Fox three!" he yelled, sending one of his missiles rocketing downrange.

He watched as his missile streaked towards the target, however the Banshee easily picked up on the missile's approach. The Banshee began launching all sorts of countermeasures, sending the missile verging off course where it self-destructed not too far away.

At that, a handful of Banshees immediately broke off pursuit, banked, and started heading in Zelda's direction.

"Well, that got their attention," Zelda muttered. “Here they come!”

_"Omega Flight! Assume an echelon formation and standby to engage!"_

Zelda nudged his fighter so that it was positioned to the left and just behind Odessa's. He tightly gripped his control yoke as the entire squadron rocketed towards the incoming Banshees, which were assuming some sort of staggered formation. The sight was honestly a bit intimidating, even for Zelda seeing all those Banshees headed in their direction. Maybe a little over a third had broken off their pursuit of the Pelican meaning Omega Flight was going to be going in outnumbered, outgunned, and possibly outmatched. They were going to need reinforcements and fast, otherwise this was going to be a really short fight.

**_SWOOSH SWOOSH BOOM!_ **

Two Banshees were sent tumbling out of the sky as two shells and a single Medusa missile came streaking in and exploded amongst the largest group of fighters, sending the entire formation scattering in all directions. Zelda glanced at his sensors as the signatures of four friendly Navy Longswords appeared on his radar.

_"Omega Flight,"_ an unknown voice sounded over Zelda's radio. _"This is Tanto Squadron, coming up on your pos on your nine o'clock. Divert to heading three zero zero and head straight for the package: we'll clear a path for you, over."_

_"Copy! Omega Flight, break formation and follow me in!"_

Zelda gratefully broke contact as the Longswords came swooping in. Armed with two fifty millimeter coil guns, a single 120mm ventral cannon equipped with proximity fuses, and various air to air missiles, the Longswords would be far better equipped to deal with the swarm of lightly armored Banshees in front of them than the Broadswords would be.

The Longswords came screaming in from above, weapons blazing. They plowed right into the mass of Banshees, sending the Covenant scattering and leaving giant gaps in their formation. Angling for one said hole, Zelda punched in his afterburners, maneuvering his way past various Banshees as he tried to work his way towards the package in the distance.

Most of the Banshees quickly got out of his way, not willing to risk a head on collision even if doing so would stop Zelda right in his tracks. But that didn't mean they weren't willing to pursue.

**_FWOOZFWOOZFWOOZ!_ **

Zelda jerked as a burst of bright blue plasma bolts passed right over his cockpit. Frantically looking around, he spotted two Banshees that had broken away from the main group and were currently pursuing the Broadswords.

"Leader, 6: head's up! Bandits, on our six!" Zelda yelled out in warning even as he dodged another burst of plasma fire.

_"Copy, I see 'em!"_ Bellum yelled back. _"Okay, 5 and 6, break off and cover our six! The rest of you, on me!"_

_"Copy."_

"Copy!"

_"Zelda, follow my lead,"_ Odessa ordered. _"On my mark, we'll do a hard bank to the right, see if we can't get these assholes to follow us, copy?"_

"Yeah, got it!" Zelda replied.

_"Alright, wait for my command... and, EXECUTE!"_

Zelda promptly grabbed his stick and yanked it hard to the right. He could feel himself getting shoved hard against his seat as his Broadsword strained to make as tight of a turn as was possible at the speeds Zelda was currently flying at. Slightly in front of him, he could see Odessa doing the same thing.

_"Status Zelda?"_ Odessa demanded to know as soon as they pulled out of their turn. _"Did those Banshees follow us?"_

Zelda started to turn around but before he could -

**_FWOOZ!_ **

"Yeah, I'd say so!" Zelda yelped as a plasma bolt spattered against his left wing. Fortunately, it was only a grazing shot; but even then, it was enough to leave a black mark on his fighter's outer hull.

_"Good, let's keep it that way!"_ Odessa commanded. _"Fall back towards the direction of the main fighting; Bellum and the rest of the squadron are going to have enough problems trying to keep the rest of the Banshees off that Pelican, let's not add to their woes!"_

"Yeah, yeah, got it!" Zelda yelled back as he threw his Broadsword into a spin. "Come on motherfucker!"

The Banshees on his tail failed to respond and instead, continued to throw plasma in his direction. As Zelda worked on avoiding getting hit, a thought suddenly struck him.

"Hey Odessa!" he called out between gritted teeth.

_“What."_

"You ever notice how the tactics of every single Covie pilot we run across seem to consist of doing one thing? Namely: throw as much plasma into the air and hope they hit something?"

_"Accuracy by volume I guess!"_ Odessa replied. _"Must be nice not having to worry about running out of ammo!"_

"No - " Zelda hastily threw his fighter into an aileron roll as one of the Banshees threw a fuel rod in his direction. "No shit. Anyways, don't know about you, but I’m about ready to lose these fools!"

_“Yeah, sure, why not? We’re far enough away from the others. You go left, I’ll go right and we'll meet up again at the rally point. Ready? EXECUTE!"_

Zelda immediately jerked his stick and began making a hard turn to the left, away from Odessa. One of the Banshees behind him quickly followed suit, but unlike before where he was trying to make sure the Banshee stayed on his tail, this time Zelda was attempting to maneuver in such a way that he’d end up _behind_ the Banshee. So, while Zelda banked, he also started throttling back on his speed while at the same time, throwing his Broadsword into a roll both up and away from the turn. His slight reduction in speed coupled with the assistance of gravity allowed Zelda to achieve a much tighter turn and as he pulled out of his roll and reentered his initial turn, he found himself just behind his pursuer.

The Banshee immediately dove in an attempt to lose Zelda by conducting a quick outside loop, but it was too late as Zelda had already achieved a missile lock.

"Fox one," Zelda commanded in a bored voice and pulled the trigger.

He could hear a _thunk_ as his missile departed the rails and he watched as it began speeding in the direction of the Banshee. The Elite pilot desperately tried to evade, throwing all sorts of countermeasures all over the place, but it was just too late. As Zelda whipped by overhead, he could just barely feel the shockwave from the blast as the Banshee disintegrated into one large ball of fire that lit up the sky.

Zelda smirked to himself. Killing Covenant never really got old.

"One down!" he announced over his radio. "5, what’s your position, over?”

_"Hang on,"_ came Odessa's strained reply. _"Kind of... busy... at the moment..."_

Deciding that meant Odessa needed some help, Zelda cast around, looking for him. It wasn’t easy, as a couple of other friendly squadrons had entered the AO, filling his radar with friendly contacts. Eventually though, he was able to spot a single blue dot being pursued by a single red dot, flying away from the heaviest of the fighting.

Without another word, Zelda rolled to the right and took off in their direction. As he approached their location, Zelda could see a single Banshee filling the air with plasma as the Elite pilot desperately tried to shoot down the Broadsword flying in front of him.

"5, this is 6," Zelda announced over the radio. "Be advised, I’m coming up behind the Banshee that’s on your six."

_"What are you doing here Zelda?"_ Odessa asked, sounding surprised.

Zelda shrugged. "Sounded like you need some help."

_"...not really? But I guess if you're here already, might as well. Do me a favor and start painting that Banshee, will you?"_

Feeling a bit mystified, Zelda nevertheless obeyed. Dropping his crosshairs over the rear of the Banshee, Zelda started pinging the Banshee, trying to make it seem like he was trying to obtain a lock without actually obtaining one.

The effect was almost instantaneous. The Banshee began deploying countermeasures, trying to juke Zelda’s "lock" while at the same time, trying to stay on Odessa’s rear. However, with the Elite pilot ever so slightly distracted, that was when Odessa struck. Throwing his Broadsword into a tight diameter loop, Odessa slipped behind the Banshee in question. Before the Covenant pilot could react, Odessa fired.

_“Fox one,"_ Odessa announced and peeled away as the Banshee exploded.

Spinning to the right, Zelda pulled up so he was next to Odessa.

“The hell was that all about?" he couldn’t help but ask.

_"Thought I told you to fall back and assist Bellum with securing the package once you were free and clear?"_

Zelda thought about it for a moment. "Uh... no. You didn’t.”

_"Huh,"_ Odessa said thoughtfully. _"Must be more tired than I thought. Anyways, follow me: we’re heading back to Bellum."_

Together they turned around and headed back in the direction where Zelda had last seen the rest of the squadron and the package was. The area was in complete chaos. More and more friendly fighter squadrons had joined the fight but because they were coming piecemeal and from multiple directions, with no AWACS planes in the AO to help coordinate the actions of all the fighters, the entire area had turned into one giant mass melee of individual dogfights.

Zelda jerked to the side as a stray burst of plasma whipped past him. Seconds later, two Banshees roared past him in a dive and Zelda reflexively fired his main cannons, but the Banshees were long gone before his rounds even came close to hitting. A split second later, his master caution started sounding, and Zelda hastily deployed countermeasures as a fuel rod cannon came flying in. Glancing at his radar, he spotted a Banshee on an intercept course, heading straight at him from his nine o’clock, but before the Banshee could even get halfway, the Covenant vehicle was struck by a single 120mm, destroying the fighter instantly.

Glancing skyward, Zelda spotted the Longsword that had fired the shell pulling out from a dive, but before the pilot could level out, the Longsword was struck amidship by two fuel rod cannons, which cut the massive fighter in half.

"Shit!" Zelda swore as the remains of the Longsword went spiraling to the ground, and he looked around, trying to spot the escape capsule which would indicate the crew had managed to eject in time, but he couldn’t see it. "Fuck!"

_"WARNING, COLLISION ALERT."_

Zelda’s head snapped forward in time to see an out of control flaming Wombat come flying right towards him on a head-on collision course.

"Oh fuck!" Zelda yelped in alarm and grabbed his stick, but before he could do anything, the Wombat exploded, sending all sorts of shrapnel forward.

"Fuck! I got to get out of this shit!" Zelda yelled to himself as he rode out the ensuing turbulence. It was way too crowded here.

Yanking back on his control yoke, Zelda tried to climb above the area where most of the fighting was taking place, but it was way too hard for Zelda to figure where that was.

_"Zelda! You okay?"_

"Just got a little singed is all," Zelda reported as he quickly finished a diagnostic check.

_"Good."_

Odessa started to say something else, but before he could finish, he was abruptly cut off.

_"Omegas 5 and 6, this is Leader: come in! What’s your status?"_

_"Leader, this is 5,"_ Odessa replied. _"We’re both green and heading back to your area."_

_"Negative! Banshees have cut us off from the package! Get to the package! If that Pelican goes down, then we’re all fucked!"_

_"Copy. We’re on our way Leader,"_ Odessa smoothly replied.

"Man, what the fuck is in that Pelican?" Zelda couldn't help but ask.

_"Does it matter? FLEETCOM wants it alive, so that’s what we’ve got to do. Hey, I’ve got eyes on. Seven oh degrees."_

Zelda glanced at his sensors and checked the spot Odessa had indicated. Sure enough, he spotted the Pelican, flying blissfully through the air, as if there wasn’t a battle raging not too far away.

"Why the hell hasn’t that damn Pelican gone for high orbit yet?" Zelda wondered out loud.

_"No idea. Head’s up! I’m picking up Bandits closing in on the package from below!"_

Zelda glanced at his radar and spotted the signatures of at least six Banshees on an intercept course to the Pelican, coming from below.

"I see them!"

_"Move to intercept!"_

Zelda immediately ignited his afterburners, trying to put his fighter in a position between the Pelican and the incoming Banshees. As he did, he happened to spot the signatures of more Covenant aircraft inbound from above, but fortunately another UNSC fighter squadron was already inbound.

However, the sight did make Zelda realize one thing: with this many enemy fighters in the AO, there was no way that Pelican was making it to high orbit under its own power.

They were going to need some more help.

**XXXXX**

**Heliopolis Station, High Orbit, Actium**

**Spaatz**

They needed more help.

That was the only conclusion Spaatz could come up with as he watched the aerial battle unfold. The Pelican carrying Argon Team desperately worked to find a way up to high orbit and escape, while all sorts of UNSC fighters from a wide range of squadrons worked to keep the Banshees at bay. At the moment, both sides were about equal in size and strength, but whereas the UNSC needed to be conscientious about the need to keep the Pelican alive, all the Covenant needed to do was focus on shooting everything in sight. Eventually, the Banshees would get through, and there would be nothing the fighters could do to stop them. They needed a way to turn the tides in their favor and the only way Spaatz could think to do that was to send one of his warships down.

Unfortunately, the stalemate that had formed hours ago was still ongoing as both fleets sort of wearily eyed each other, waiting for someone to make the first mistake. If Spaatz allowed even a single ship to depart his task force to retrieve that Pelican, it could potentially weaken his fleet's defensive posture and put his forces at the disadvantage.

Yet, at the same time, his standing orders from earlier this morning still remained the same: he simply could not allow a high valued asset like Argon Team to fall into the hands of the Covenant. At this point, it would probably be easier to blow the Pelican out of the sky himself, but Spaatz couldn't do that for two simple reasons: one, it would be terrible for morale for all soldiers involved in this fight right to see something like that happen, especially as they wouldn't have the context to understand _why_ it happened. And then second, given the amount of resources already expended attempting to locate said Spartan team, it would simply be a waste to lose them _now_ , when they were so close to being recovered.

Spaatz sighed. Well, at least he'd have the initiative.

"Kanin."

Kanin instantly appeared by his side. "Sir?"

"Alert Task Force Whiskey: sound general quarters and prepare for combat."

"Aye, sir."

"I also need a ship to go down and pluck that Pelican from orbit. Preferably one that we won't miss in this upcoming battle."

"Searching now, sir. I have one. The UNSC _Gabrielle_ , a _Halberd_ -class destroyer assigned to Destroyer Squadron 29. Her captain reports she is operating at less than fifty percent efficiency due to most of her crew having been on leave when the invasion began. She hasn't been able to contribute much to the space battles, however she would be able to enter the atmosphere, retrieve the Spartans, and withdraw without too much difficulty."

Spaatz frowned. He had been hoping for a frigate as those ships had a much larger hanger bay than destroyers. But then again, _Halberd_ -class destroyers did have facilities to store and operate two separate Pelican dropships at the same time, plus her firepower and armor would allow the ship to survive relatively unscathed against the light Banshees.

"Do it," he commanded. "Divert the _Gabrielle_ and extract that Pelican. And alert Commander Luzader; no doubt he's going to want to get a team over there as soon as they're extracted.

"Yes, sir."

Spaatz immediately turned away an activated his display.

"Admiral D’Amboise."

An image of D’Amboise appeared.

"Sir?"

"Our timeline has moved up. Execute Operation Beta Six."

"Aye, sir!"

The call immediately terminated and Spaatz glanced at his display as his ships, sitting around inactive for many hours now, suddenly started coming alive again as they moved into position. He wasn't the only one to notice: across the vast expanse of space, the Covenant fleet was also beginning to come alive as they started to react to the movements of the UNSC fleet. Soon, this entire area would be washed with death once more.

In the midst of all the chaos, a single _Halberd_ -class ship was rapidly pulling away from the crowd and heading on a direct course towards the interior of the planet. Already, he could see the _Gabrielle's_ hull beginning to glow as it started to pass through Actium's upper atmosphere.

"Get that dropship," Spaatz muttered under his breath, "then get out quick."

He could only hope they would be able to make it in time.

**XXXXX**

**UNSC _Moonlight Sonata,_ High Orbit, Actium**

**Luzader**

Things were getting intense.

Luzader sat on the edge of his seat as he watched the destroyer Spaatz had rerouted descend through the atmosphere. Back in orbit, both the UNSC and Covenant fleets were exploding with furious activity, disturbed by the displacement of a single warship after so many hours, but what they were doing beyond that, Luzader had no idea as his sole focus was on that single destroyer.

The destroyer's hull was glowing with heat as the ship hurtled through the clouds and descended into the chaos. Upon entering the battlefield, it immediately began drawing fire from all directions as the Covenant quickly highlighted that ship as the single largest threat to their continued existence. The destroyer didn't take it lying down though, and every single one of her anti-aircraft guns were blazing away as the ship plowed its way through the air in the direction of Spartan Team Argon.

As it travelled, Luzader could see the doors to one of the destroyer's hangers sliding open, revealing a single glowing dot of light on the destroyer's otherwise dull gray hull. A beacon of hope, in a sense.

Looking back at the Pelican, Luzader could see Maria diverting course and heading straight for that beacon, while the two Air Force Broadswords that had been escorting her peeled off to try and deter any pursuit. Looking at a nearby monitor which was currently displaying their loadouts, Luzader could tell both Broadswords didn't have much left in terms of AAMs, but hopefully they wouldn't have to hold back the Covenant for long.

Zooming in so that the camera was solely focused on Spartan Team Argon, Luzader tried to get a gauge of just how fast Maria was flying. It was fast; almost too fast and by the looks of it, Maria wasn't planning on slowing down anytime soon. That was going to complicate things.

"Get a direct line to that destroyer's captain," Luzader demanded without looking away. "Inform him the Pelican he's about to recover is containing top secret, eyes only cargo, and that no one, under threat of treason, is to attempt to look inside. Let's try and limit the amount of people who could possibly be exposed to the Spartans, especially when they're in this state."

"Aye, sir."

"And prep an away team," he continued. "Navy commandos only. I want this situation brought under control ASAP!"

His crew barked out an acknowledgment, however Luzader was no longer paying attention. Instead, he watched intently as Argon Team's Pelican flew right through the open hangar bay doors and into the destroyer at top speeds, and Luzader couldn't help but cringe as he imagined what sort of damage that would do to both the dropship and her cargo.

Still, as the hangar bay doors slammed shut, Luzader couldn't help but let out a mute sigh of relief. Argon Team was secured.

Unfortunately, that was the easy part.

"Get that destroyer out of there!" Luzader demanded even as the destroyer's engines flared and the destroyer began to ascend, building up speed in order to try and achieve escape velocity. However, the Covenant had no intentions of simply letting that ship out of their grasp.

"Sir!" his TAO cried out. "We're picking up a signal: the Banshees! They're conducting kamikaze runs!"

"What!?" Luzader roared, leaping to his feet but in a way, it made total sense: Banshees normally didn't have enough firepower to take down a UNSC destroyer by themselves. But if they could damage the engines and force the destroyer to crash land on the surface of the colony...

"Divert all fighters!" Luzader hollered. "New objective: protect that destroyer at all cost!"

**XXXXX**

**Upper Stratosphere, Byzas**

**Zelda**

_"Protect that destroyer at all cost!"_

"With fucking what!?" Zelda demanded to no one in particular as he dodged a fuel rod cannon fired in his direction. "6 to Leader, be advised I am Winchester on AAMs!"

_"6, get in close and use your guns! We have got to make sure the destroyer is able to get away!"_

"What!? That doesn't fucking help at all!" Zelda yelled in frustration. "What the fuck was so goddamn important on that fucking Pelican!?!?"

_"6, stay on my ass!"_ Odessa yelled over the radio. _"We got to get in while the Covies are still trying to reorganize!"_

"They're not trying to fucking reorganize at all! They're trying to fly their crazy asses into the ship itself!"

_"Then stop them!"_

"God dammit people! It's not that fucking easy!!!" Zelda raged.

However with no other recourse available to him, all Zelda could do was point his fighter up and rocket skyward towards orbit. With his auxiliary engines having been damaged earlier this morning, there was no way Zelda could achieve escape velocity to make it to orbit, but at the very least he could catch up to the destroyer. The massive bulk of the Naval warship loomed out of the darkness in front of him and zooming in, Zelda could see little blue dots of light representing Banshees as they fired their boosters and tried to slam into the destroyer's engines at Mach speeds.

_"Banshees are trying to catch up to the destroyer! Omega Flight: stop them!"_

Dropping his crosshairs over one of the distant blue dots, Zelda pulled the trigger.

**_BOOMBOOM_ **

Zelda watched as his rounds streaked towards the Banshee, but the fighter was outside of Zelda's maximum range for his guns, even at this altitude. Zelda swore. He needed to get closer.

But before Zelda could do anything, the Banshee in question fired its boosters and flew right into the destroyer.

**_KABOOM!_ **

Blue flames shot out in every direction and although the Banshee had just missed the destroyer's main thrusters due to some last minute evasive maneuvers on the destroyer's part, Zelda could still see a large glowing hole in the destroyer's hull from where the Banshee had hit. Navy destroyers may have had more armor and armament when compared to smaller warships like frigates or corvettes, but they still shared the same weakness as everything else: because of the location of their engines, their rear was always the most vulnerable place on a ship.

"Shit," Zelda swore.

_"Head's up! Looks like we've got another wave inbound! Omega Flight: move to intercept!"_

"Double shit!" Zelda yelled as he glanced at his radar. Another six Banshees were rapidly rising up from a lower altitude.

_"6, with me!"_ Odessa desperately yelled. _"We're heading straight down!"_

Zelda gritted his teeth and yanked his stick to the side, rolling into a dive and heading straight for the incoming Banshees.

_"6, engage!"_

Zelda could see Odessa open fire with his cannons, and he moved to follow suit. Dropping his crosshairs over the lead Banshee, Zelda opened up.

**_BOOMBOOMBOOM!_ **

Zelda's rounds streaked towards the Banshees, missing them by a few meters, and he started to walk them on target when his master caution went off and he noticed one of the Banshees prepping to fire a fuel rod cannon.

"Flares!" Zelda spat as he maintained his course.

_beepbeepbeep_

An alert sounded in his ears and bright red letters began flashing before his very eyes:

_"COUNTERMEASURES DEPLETED."_

"Oh shit!" Zelda yelled even as the Banshee fired.

_"Zelda, INCOMING!"_

The fuel rod cannon began rapidly climbing and Zelda could see Odessa ejecting flares but the fuel rod hadn't been aimed at him, it had been aimed at Zelda. However, without countermeasures, he had no way to break the lock and being in a dive meant trying to maneuver out of the way would be almost impossible as breaking away would take too much time! Zelda had very few options to escape, and even less time to think about it, so he immediately did the first thing that came to mind: he armed two of his Mark 211 bombs and dropped them.

_Clung. Clung._

Zelda could hear both bombs successfully detaching from their internal mounts and he could almost hear them whistling as they dropped. Immediately, he felt stupid: what were bombs going to do against the fuel rod cannon? He should have taken the risk of breaking off. Hopefully he still had time...

Grabbing his stick, Zelda yanked back _hard_ , trying to pull out of his dive.

_"6, where are you going!?"_ he heard Odessa cry out, but Zelda couldn't respond even if he wanted to as he was being slammed hard against his seat by the g-force, the result of trying to pull out of such a steep dive at such high speeds.

As he struggled to recover his breath, Zelda glanced at his scopes to see where that fuel rod cannon was and to his immense surprise, he saw the fuel rod was actually turning and heading straight for his bombs. How or why the bombs had attracted the fuel rod Zelda had no idea as fuel rods seemed to be rather inconsistent in how they worked, but even as Zelda leveled out, the fuel rod and the bombs collided.

**_WABOOMWABOOM!!!!_ **

The fuel rod cannon slammed into the first bomb, setting it off which in turn set off the second one. A massive fireball ripped through the sky as all two thousand kilograms worth of explosive power was set off, causing Zelda's sensors to go haywire and in that moment, Zelda realized he had a small window of opportunity.

"Oh, this is a bad idea!" Zelda groaned even as he slammed his stick forward and dove once more.

Rocketing straight towards the expanding fireball of gas and heat, Zelda gritted his teeth as he flew right through the shockwave which set off all sorts of alarms as his Broadsword violently shook. But as he emerged through on the other side, he could see three Banshees flying towards him less than five hundred meters away from him, looking totally unprepared for Zelda to emerge from the fireball. Zelda didn't hesitate.

"Guns guns guns!" he roared as he locked onto the lead Banshee and opened fire.

The Banshee split apart before exploding and Zelda hurriedly tried to lock on to one of the remaining Covenant fighters, but he was flying too fast and was unable to accomplish much more as he whipped past them both.

As he flew right passed the Banshees, Zelda found himself just outside where most of the fighting was taking place and Zelda let out a sigh of relief. This was getting to be too much, even for him. He had to get out of here, rearm and refuel. Surely someone else could take his place at this point?

_"6, this is Odessa, give me a status update!"_

Zelda grabbed his mic.

"5, this is 6," he wearily reported. "I'm still flying, but I need to RTB. I'm Winchester on AAMs, Winchester on countermeasures, and running low on ammo for my guns. Requesting permission to return to base, over."

_"No can do 6!"_ Bellum abruptly cut in over the radio. _"We still got Banshees swarming all over this destroyer! I need you and 5 back here, NOW!"_

"WHAT FUCKING FOR!?" Zelda bellowed at the top of his lungs, at the end of his patience. "WHAT THE FUCK ARE WE PROTECTING!?!?"

_"6, say again your last!?"_

Snarling under his breath, Zelda reached for his radio to repeat his rant when -

_"Zelda, TWO ON YOUR SIX!"_

Zelda immediately threw himself into a spin and thus, was able to dodge the first burst of plasma directed his way. Glancing at his rear scopes, he spotted the two Banshees he had blown past just a few moments ago pulling out of their dive and locking on to the rear of his fighter. This time, Zelda didn't hesitate.

"Mayday mayday mayday, this is Omega-6: I got two Banshees on my six, I can't shake them!" Zelda urgently yelled into his radio. "I got nothing to deal with them; zero, zip, nada! I need immediate backup!"

_"5, are you in any position to backup 6?"_

_"Negative, I've got two Banshees of my own to deal with!"_

_"6, be advised, no one is in your immediate vicinity to help out! All available fighters are supporting this destroyer! Try to gain some altitude and get back here so we can support!"_

"God dammit, Bellum, if I find out you sent these two Banshees after me just to get me back on the mission, I’m going to fucking shoot you!!!" Zelda yelled. "Gah! Come on you fuckers!"

Yanking back on his stick, Zelda rapidly began to ascend in the direction of where the Navy destroyer was still making its way to orbit. Broadswords, Longswords, Wombats, Banshees, even a couple of Seraphs were intertwined around the destroyer, flying and shooting at each other and at the destroyer. Despite the chaos, the two Banshees remained doggedly on his tail, firing nonstop and Zelda swore as they hit _something_ on his fighter, though he couldn't tell what.

"Leader, this is Omega-6," Zelda declared. "I'm in the vicinity of the destroyer! What's your position, over?"

_"Omega-6, this is Leader, do you copy?"_

Zelda glanced at his mic to make sure he had actually depressed the button all the way. "Leader, this is 6: I read you loud and clear! Where is my fucking backup!?"

_"Leader to any Omega Flight elements: does anyone have eyes on Omega-6!?"_

"Dammit, I'm right fucking here!" Zelda snarled as he hastily glanced at his computer and then swore. Apparently that 'something' the Banshees had hit was his radio receiver. The plasma or EMP or whatever had damaged it to the point Zelda could still receive, he just couldn't transmit. He was on his own for the moment. "Fucking shit!"

Glancing at his rear scopes, Zelda desperately tried to figure out a way to lose the Banshees on his tail, but he couldn't think of anything. He had no options, no chance of escape, and the Covenant didn't seem interested in letting him go. While Zelda could continue to dodge their shots for the moment, he couldn't do it indefinitely and eventually, the Covenant would hit him somewhere he couldn't afford to get hit.

"Can anyone hear me!?" Zelda desperately yelled into his radio, just in case, as he dove towards the destroyer in the hopes their AA batteries would lock on to the Banshees behind him and shoot them down for him. However, with both sides intermingled like they were, the destroyer must have turned the guns off to prevent the chance of friendly fire, as they weren't firing. "Fuck, fuck, FUCK!"

Time was running out for Zelda. He needed a way out, _now_.

In desperation, Zelda looped around the destroyer and headed for the rear, towards the destroyer's engines. Technically, he was supposed to be leading the Banshees _away_ from the destroyer's engines, but fuck it. At this point, Zelda could only hope that upon reaching the engines, the Banshees would divert to engage _that_ instead and leave him the fuck alone.

_"Wait a minute; Leader, this is 12, I think I got him! Point one seven six, flying right by the_ Gabrielle's _main thrusters!"_

_"I see it! Zelda, is that you flying by the_ Gabrielle's _main engines!?"_

'YES!' Zelda wanted to scream, but not being able to transmit, he didn't bother wasting his breath. Instead, he glanced over his shoulder to see how close the Banshees were getting.

_"Zelda, if that’s you, get the fuck out of there! That destroyer is about to ignite their main boosters and head to high orbit! Zelda, GET OUT OF THERE!"_

...main boosters...

The phrase bounced around in Zelda's head for a moment. Then, all of a sudden, he realized how he was going to lose those Banshees.

"Alright you fuckers," he snarled out loud "you want to play? Huh? Is that it? Then why don't you fucking try this on for size!?"

Gripping his stick, Zelda looped around until he was flying directly under the _Gabrielle's_ main thrusters as the destroyer angled upwards. Her massive engines loomed right over Zelda's head. They didn't seem that big from a distance, especially when compared to the rest of the ship, but up close, it was like looking into the heart of a volcano that was about ready to consume all. Zelda's Broadsword began violent shaking as he passed right through the turbulence caused by the destroyer's engine exhaust but as bad as this was, Zelda knew it was about to get so much worse. Even now, looking up, he could see the engine's exhaust slowly changing colors, going from a bright orange, to a white-blue color as they prepared to ignite their main boosters and finally fly free of Actium's gravity.

"Come on _, come on!"_ Zelda urged as he fought to fly clear. He glanced behind him. The two Banshees were still on his tail, blazing away, somehow ignore of what was about to happen next. "Almost there..."

_"Zelda! Boosters igniting in three... two..."_

Zelda abruptly found himself out from under the shadow that had been cast by the _Gabrielle_ , and in open air once more. He quickly banked to the left and angled his fighter so he could see what happened next.

_"...one."_

Blue flames suddenly erupted from the rear of the destroyer as all of her engines simultaneously ignited and she began to rapidly pick up speed. The Banshees were too far away from the engines to actually be consumed by the flames, but the amount of energy and exhaust needed to propel a ship the size and mass of a _Halberd_ -class destroyer to escape velocities was enormous, and there wasn't a single one-manned fighter in existence that could withstand that sort of pressure. The Banshees were ripped to shreds.

"Ha-ha!" Zelda cheered. "Take that you sons of bitches!"

Unaware of what had just transpired, the destroyer continued to rocket skyward. Fighters from both sides quickly scrambled to get out of the way, but one Seraph was just a bit too slow and the _Gabrielle's_ hardened bow slammed into it, causing the Seraph to explode in a furious blue fireball, and the destroyer continued, unimpeded. A few Banshees tried to fire on the destroyer, but for the most part, all parties assembled could tell that unless the Covenant sent down one of their warships the UNSC _Gabrielle_ , and whatever mysterious cargo that Pelican had been carrying, was free and clear.

_"Omega Flight! Break contact!"_ Bellum commanded and Zelda gratefully turned his fighter and headed in the direction the rest of his squadron was escaping in. _"All pilots, RTB."_

_"We're done here.”_

**XXXXX**

**Covenant designated Landing Zone: Deliverance**

**Zek**

"Sire? The Demons have escaped."

That single call over the communicator was more than enough to send shivers down Zek's spine. Very slowly, as to not draw attention to himself, Zek glanced in 'Oteree's direction to see how he would react. It didn't look promising as 'Oteree didn't so much as look angry, he simply wasn't showing any emotion. At all. Which somehow made it all the more terrifying. Anger, Zek could handle. At least he knew what to expect. But with the way 'Oteree was right now? Zek didn't know whether curling up in a ball or fleeing as fast as he could was the better response.

"Sire?" 'Quetshadee cautiously asked in the background. "What are your orders?"

'Oteree exhaled, and that single motion was almost enough to cause Zek to go screaming for cover as the sigh was single-handedly the most terrifying sound Zek had heard since his arrival on this planet. Zek had no idea such... ire, could be conveyed by such a simple motion. Even 'Quetshadee, Zek couldn't help but note, seemed about ready to flee.

"Destroy the humans," 'Oteree muttered.

'Quetshadee and Zek exchanged a confused look.

"Sire...?" 'Quetshadee delicately asked.

'Oteree suddenly whirled around, making Zek jump in alarm.

"DESTROY THE HUMANS!" 'Oteree roared. No longer a stoic rock of nothingness. Instead, he was now a volcano of white hot fury. "CRUSH THEM, GRIND THEM, EXTERMINATE THEM ALL! EVOCATUS, TAKE YOUR TROOPS, ALL YOUR LEGIONS, AND DESTROY THE HUMANS!!! BATHE THIS ENTIRE PATHETIC WORLD IN THEIR BLOOD!!! MAKE THE VERY GROUND TREMBLE WITH OUR FURY!!!"

"BY YOUR WILL SIRE!" Zek reflexively bellowed alongside 'Quetshadee.

However, in doing so, it seemed to have reminded 'Oteree that Zek was still standing there as he leaned in close to 'Quetshadee and said in a low voice, albeit one that Zek could still hear, "And prepare a transport. I must return to the Fleet."

"The High Prophets _must_ be informed of what has transpired here."

* * *

General Notes:

**_Gökçen_ -class attack transport**: the UNSC Air Force attack transport UNSC _Gerald Young_ has shown up before in _Missing in Action_ (chapter 1,) however I never identified the class. The _Gökçen_ -class attack transport is named after **Sabiha Gökçen,** who was a Turkish fighter pilot, and has been recognized by The Guinness Book of World Records to have been history’s **first female fighter pilot**. To be clear, she isn’t the first female combat pilot, but the first **fighter** pilot.


	18. Day's End

**O’Neill Air Force Base, Thracia Province, Actium  
May 6, 2545  
2938**

**Zelda**

_“Omega-6, you’re cleared to land on runway three.”_

Zelda keyed his microphone, wondering if the patch job applied to his radio was going to hold.

“Copy that Control Tower,” he tiredly said. “Runway three. Omega-6, out.”

Without another word, Zelda switched off his radio. Banking to the left, he steadily increased his speed until he was in line with the runway before pulling back on the throttle. As he made his approach, he made sure to lower his landing gear and extend all flaps to try and slow his speed even further. It wasn’t easy to see the runway; obviously, in the middle of an invasion, the last thing the airbase wanted to do was light up their own position. So, in an effort to avoid giving away their own position, all of the runway lights had been extinguished, forcing Zelda to fly entirely by his sensors. It was alright though; Zelda was a professional pilot and despite how tired he was, he had landed his Broadsword safely many times in similar conditions in the past, so he wasn’t worried.

Watching on his HUD as he got lower and lower to the ground, Zelda began rounding out to increase his angle of descent while at the same time, pulling back on the throttle. At this point, he was maybe only a few meters off the ground, so he began to round out and mentally brace himself for touchdown, which happened just a few seconds later. His Broadsword shook and violently rattled as his landing gear finally made contact with the concrete runway, and Zelda hurriedly pulled back on the throttle and applied his brakes as he rocketed down the tarmac.

By the time Zelda had reached the end of the runway, his speed had been reduced to a crawl. A highlighted route instantly appeared on his HUD, directing him back to his hangar. As soon as it appeared, he began driving along the route, trying to get out of the way for the next Broadsword landing at that very moment.

Rolling past the various individual fighter hangars, Zelda tried not to stare at all the ones that he knew would remain empty for tonight. Their losses had been… well, he didn’t know how many pilots they had lost today, but he knew it was a lot. The loss of one pilot was always a tragedy but after today, it was practically a catastrophe. And this was just day one of the invasion. It would only get worse in the days to come.

Driving slightly passed his assigned hangar and coming to a complete stop, Zelda waited until the aircraft marshaller had gotten into position and began directing Zelda to back up. Focusing solely on the marshaller’s instructions, Zelda backed his Broadsword up until the hangar walls had engulfed his fighter. It wasn’t until the marshaller indicated for him to stop, and his fighter was secured, did Zelda reach out and power down his plane. The steady whine of his engines that had been filling his ears with background noise all day abruptly disappeared, leaving Zelda with an uneasy sense of emptiness.

Unhooking his oxygen and ripping off his helmet before he could suffocate, Zelda sat in his cockpit for a moment, trying to catch his breath. Outside, the ground crew were already swarming all over his fighter, trying to get some maintenance in before his squadron was thrown back into the fighting tomorrow morning. But before they could do anything serious, they were going to need Zelda to get out so, with a reluctant sigh, Zelda thumbed the button that would open his canopy and unbuckled himself from his seat. Outside, he could hear his ladder extending. As it did, he reached out and tried to pull himself out from his cockpit, only to find that he couldn’t move: his legs and lower back were too stiff.

Groaning, Zelda gave his thighs a good whack, trying to get the blood flowing again. How long had he been sitting in this cockpit? He couldn’t even remember. He shot a glance at his mission run timer, hoping to find the reason behind his poor health.

…Holy fucking shit. He’d been up in the air for a little over twenty-four hours. No wonder he was so fucking stiff. That could not be healthy, sitting on his ass for that long of a time. Zelda had to admit, he had never done that in training.

With a loud, pain-filled grunt, Zelda forced himself to get up. Grateful for all the dips he had done in the past working out in the gym, Zelda planted his hands on either side of his cockpit and pushed himself up and out of his seat, allowing gravity to force his legs downwards and opening up his blood flow. Very awkwardly, he managed to get one leg out of the cockpit and onto the ladder, followed by his other leg. Then he slowly began making his way to the ground.

Somehow Zelda managed to accomplish the feat without stumbling or falling off the ladder. Once his feet were secure on the ground, Zelda tried to do some mini hops, to fully restore the blood flow to the rest of his limbs, but damn if it didn’t feel like he was wearing boots made out of concrete right now.

Giving it up as a bad job, Zelda did his best to drag himself over to the door that would lead back to his squadron’s briefing room.

“Lieutenant, sir?”

Zelda didn’t even bother trying to hide the irritated look on his face as he looked up at the security forces officer standing guard by the door. The guard didn’t look perturbed though.

“Your sidearm, sir,” the guard said, pointing at the pistol Zelda had strapped in a shoulder holster.

Zelda stared at the man incomprehensively, before the guard pointed at a weapon unloading station sitting nearby. Zelda couldn’t help but scoff. Loaded weapons were not allowed on base outside of the hangar and runway area; but he would have thought that in the middle of an alien invasion, that rule would have been suspended. Apparently it hadn’t been. Fucking Air Force.

Pulling out his sidearm, Zelda stuck the barrel into the cylinder tube that made up the unloading station, ejected the magazine and racked the slide to eject the round within the chamber. Once that was done, he dry fired his pistol to make sure it was actually cleared, before sticking both the magazine and his now empty sidearm back in their respective holsters. He didn’t bother trying to recover the round he had ejected from the chamber as he was pretty sure if he tried to bend over, he would fall over and not be able to get back up.

Once that was done, the guard finally allowed him onto the base, and Zelda limped over to his squadron’s ready room, where what remained of his squadron was gathering.

The room felt strangely large, both because at this point Zelda had gotten used to the confined space of his cockpit, and because there was hardly anyone left. Half the squadron had gone down today, leaving the rest trying to figure out what to do and how to feel. No one said anything, as everyone was simply too tired, both physically and mentally, to try and decide what to say.

Zelda looked up as Bellum stumbled into the room. She looked about as bad as Zelda felt, if not worse. Even in the dim light, he could see her eyes were bloodshot, as if she had been crying. But when she spoke, her voice was as strong as ever.

“Good flying today,” was all she said. “We’ve been pulled off flight status for the moment. Unfortunately, we can’t leave the area, but we’re going to have some food and water delivered to us, so try and relax. Don’t worry about anything, we’ll figure it all out tomorrow. Tonight, just… try and unwind.”

Zelda nodded in acknowledgement, too tired to try and do anything else.

wwwweeeeeee _rrrrrrrrnnnn_ NNNNN **NNNNNNNNNNNNNNN _NNNNNNNNNNNNNNNN!!!!_**

Zelda looked up sharply at the sound of the air raid siren going off, followed by the shriek as missile batteries began firing their payloads into the air. Over the chaos of explosions, he could hear the whine of Covenant anti-gravity engines, as well as the familiar static of plasma weapons discharging. With a weary sigh, Zelda reluctantly climbed to his feet, but Bellum was quick to stop him.

“Don’t worry about that people!” she sharply said. “That’s not our problem. Base has got its own anti-air defenses, and there are other squadrons to deal with that crap. Settle down. Stay indoors though; these buildings are reinforced and unless we take a direct hit, we should be fine from any airstrikes. Just… try and get some sleep.”

“If you can,” she added as there was a particularly vicious explosion from outside.

Zelda nodded. Without saying a word, he got up and walked to the nearest corner of the room to stake out a spot, and threw himself on the ground. Exhaustion almost immediately overtook him, and he felt his eyes closing.

He fell asleep to the sound of the pitched air battle raging only a couple hundred meters away.

**XXXXX**

**Staging Area, Outskirts of Newington  
Thracia Province, Actium  
May 6, 2545  
3129**

**Tariq**

_"Okay driver, and... halt!"_

Tariq lurched forward as the tank jerked to a halt. Without a word, Tariq watched as Koroma reached out and switched the ignition off, killing the tank. For a long moment, all occupants of the vehicle just sat there, enjoying the silence.

The silence was broken when Buckley finally reached up and unbuckled his harness. Popping open the hatch above him, he climbed up and disappeared outside. After a few moments, Tariq decided to join him. Unbuckling his own harness, he made sure to grab his SMG, before shimmying out of his seat and climbing out of the gunner’s hatch. Sitting on the edge, he closed his eyes and took a deep breath, inhaling his first breath of fresh air in hours.

“What a fucking day.”

Tariq cracked open an eye to see Buckley joining him on the top of the turret, and Tariq turned to glare at him. Buckley immediately noticed. “What?”

Wordlessly, Tariq gestured behind him, and Buckley followed the motion, only to stare blankly at the three other tanks that made up their platoon.

“I don’t get it,” he admitted after a moment of observation. “What am I looking at?”

Tariq sighed and stared at him more pointedly.

“Sergeant, use your words: I’m too tired to play charade- ah, fuck. I should go get a sitrep from the rest of the TCs in the platoon, shouldn’t I?”

Tariq slowly nodded.

“Goddammit.”

Buckley hauled himself fully out of the tank and jumped to the ground. As he walked away, Tariq just barely managed to hear him say, “Why didn’t anyone tell me being an officer was this hard?”

Tariq suppressed a snort: how was this man so bad at being an officer? And to think, Tariq wasn’t even babysitting him that much; the platoon sergeant was. Honestly, if it wasn’t for Sergeant Gyeon… well, Tariq didn’t want to imagine how much worse off this platoon would be with Buckley in charge.

Shaking his head, Tariq turned his mind to other matters. He pulled out a cigarette and lit it. Taking a deep drag, Tariq held his breath, letting the cigarette smoke swirl around in his lungs in an attempt to warm up his core before slowly exhaling. He did this a couple more times as he watched the rest of the battalion come trickling in.

With the forward elements of the Colonial Militia's 80th Rifle Division finally having arrived in the AO to take their place on the line, 2nd Brigade of the UNSC Army's 53rd Armored Division had officially been relieved for the night and moved into the Corps’ reserve. It had been one hell of a long day, and Tariq was looking forward to getting some actual rest.

There was a mute _clang_ as Koroma popped open his hatch, apparently having finally decided to join the rest of the crew outside. Climbing out, Tariq watched as he started stretching, before glancing up at Tariq.

"God. I was starting to feel like I was glued to that seat," he noted.

Tariq shrugged, but didn't say anything. What was there to even say?

Even in the dim light, Tariq could see Koroma looked somewhat disappointed, but he rallied quickly. Climbing up to the top of the tank, much to Tariq's annoyance, Koroma popped down on the turret right next to him, either not noticing or not caring about the patch of snow he had just plopped down on. Tariq briefly considered moving, but then decided he was too tired to bother. He waited for Koroma to say something.

"Think I could bum a cigarette from you?" Koroma abruptly asked.

Tariq couldn't help but give Koroma an odd look even as he extracted a cigarette from his pack and handed it over to him.

"Didn't know you smoked," he couldn't help but comment.

"I do. But only on rare occasions. And usually not cigarettes. I’m a cigar guy. It's the taste, you see," Koroma explained. "Can’t stand the taste of cigarettes. Unfortunately, I didn't bring any cigars with me ‘cause I figured we were just going out on a field exercise. Didn't expect to actually fight off a full-fledged Covenant invasion."

"Thanks," he added as Tariq pulled out a lighter and helped light Koroma's cigarette.

"Well, that's the problem, ain't it?" Tariq noted as he stashed his stuff away. "No one expects a Covenant invasion because even this late in the war, we still can't predict when or where an invasion will occur. So we never have any time to prepare. Just gotta make do with what we've got."

Koroma bobbed his head and fell silent. For a moment, the two of them just sat there, letting their cigarettes burn down as they enjoyed the silence.

Finally, Koroma spoke up.

"Man, I am going to sleep like a baby tonight," he said with a groan as he stretched his arms. Tariq let out a humorless chuckle.

"Sleep? What's that?"

Koroma started to laugh, but then quickly stopped upon noticing the serious expression on Tariq's face. "You serious? We just got pulled off the line. I thought that meant we would be able to get some rest."

Tariq let out a derisive snort. "Yeah. ’Rest.' Sure, we'll get some rest alright. After we finish getting the tank ready and prepared for the fight tomorrow."

"What?" Tariq added upon noticing the surprised expression on Koroma's face. "You thought just because we managed to hold back the Covenant today, somehow the Covies were just going to throw in the flag? Admit defeat? Withdraw?"

"No, of course not," Koroma hastily said. "I just..."

He trailed off as Tariq shook his head.

"Covies ain't done with this world yet kid. They got a taste of what sort of resistance we can offer. Probed our defenses. Measured our response times. And sapped a lot of our strength today. That way, when they come back tomorrow, they'll have a much better idea of what to expect. You see, that’s what the Covenant do. Once the Covies smell blood in the water, they will not relent. They will attack, and continue attacking until either they're all dead, or all opposition has been subdued. The real question here is: can we provide the same measure of resistance we did today, tomorrow? And the only way to answer _that_ , is to make sure all equipment, especially our vehicles, are in tiptop shape, ready for another dozen rounds. And we don't rest until that happens. Got it?"

Koroma mutely nodded.

"Good. And don't ever forget that," Tariq insisted as he looked up in time to see Buckley returning.

"So, I’ve talked to Sergeant Gyeon and we’re arranging for more fuel and ammo to be delivered to this area for us," Buckley reported as he approached. "When it arrives, let’s make sure we're stocked up, topped off, and ready for the tomorrow, Sergeant."

Tariq nodded.

"Also: First Sergeant Noble is going around, trying to create a list of replacement parts everyone is going to need to bring their vehicle back up to speed,” he continued. “We should have a similar list so why don’t you and Private Koroma get one ready to be presented to her when she swings by in… let's say twenty minutes. I don’t really care what’s on the list; it can be something as simple as new barrels to the coax to an entirely new transmission. Whatever you think we could use, add it.” Tariq looked up and saw Buckley staring at him intently. “Repairs and resupplies are going to be increasingly more difficult to come by from this point on, so let's make sure to take advantage of it whenever we can, hooah?”

“Sir,” Tariq mutely replied. Beside him, he could see Koroma tiredly nodding in acknowledgement. He frowned and raised his hand as a thought occurred to him.

“Yeah, Sergeant?”

“Lieutenant," Tariq began, "do we have any word on how the rest of our division has fared in this fight in terms of casualties? Especially those brigades that had been stationed north of the Covenant drop zone."

Buckley looked confused for a moment, before his eyes lit up in understanding.

“You have friends in those brigades,” he stated, and Tariq nodded even though it hadn’t been a question. "Unfortunately, all communications with divisional headquarters was officially severed like, six or seven hours ago. We've actually been reporting directly to XIV Armored Corps HQ the last few hours so, because of that, I have no idea how the rest of the division is faring."

"However," he hastily added, "let me talk to Captain Lightfoot I can probably get you an up-to-date casualty list if that will work for you."

Tariq shrugged, then nodded. Probably the best he could hope for honestly.

“Well, why don’t you guys work on that list,” Buckley suggested. “Sooner we finish, sooner we can get some sleep.”

"You can depend on us, sir," Koroma tiredly replied.

Buckley nodded, and then turned around and walked away.

Tariq watched him go for a moment, before taking one last drag from his cigarette and flicking the butt away.

"Well, no sense in standing on ceremony," Tariq declared.

"Let's get this shit done."

**XXXXX**

**Byzas, Thracia Province, Actium  
May 6, 2545  
3309**

**Marcus**

Marcus stared morosely at the few pictures that had managed to stubbornly remain clinging to the wall. It was crazy to think that at the start of this day, this entire building had once been a restaurant. But now, over thirty hours later, it was currently serving as the command post for this weird, oversized, mishmash platoon consisting of dismounted Army tankers, Marine infantrymen, Airborne sappers, and Colonial Militia truck drivers that Marcus somehow found himself stuck with. And he _was_ most definitely stuck: it hadn’t even been ten minutes ago when Lieutenant Lancelot had tersely informed them that, no, no one else was getting sent back to the rear if it could be avoid. Even those soldiers without any real combat training.

Marcus let out a mute sigh. At this point in the day, Marcus wasn’t even sure how he felt about that anymore. Honestly, he couldn’t really feel anything at the moment, just numbness.

“Motherfucker!”

Marcus twitched as Orlović suddenly started cursing. He glanced over to see him viciously spitting out the chunk of MRE had he just taken a bite from, before scraping his tongue, as if trying to physically remove the taste of whatever he had just eaten.

“Are you alright?” Marcus softly called out.

Orlović paused in his activities and looked up to give Marcus a glare, before pointedly ignoring his presence, and Marcus mentally let out a small sigh. Ever since regaining consciousness, Orlović had been giving Marcus the silent treatment and Marcus wasn’t entirely sure why.

…well, okay, that wasn’t exactly true. Marcus actually had a pretty good idea why Orlović was ignoring him. The problem was, Marcus just wasn’t sure what to _do_ about it. On one hand, Marcus was determined not to apologize for his actions earlier in the day. Marcus was no soldier, a fact he would continually and repeatedly remind people of, if he needed to. But on the other hand… well, the Covenant trying to kill him were bad enough as it was. Marcus really didn’t need nor want to be fighting against his own side. That, and he never liked the idea of people being angry at him.

But the thing was, Marcus didn’t really know how to ap… make things right with Orlović. He'd been kind of hoping Dresden would have stepped in at this point but at the same time, Marcus knew he hadn’t exactly been presenting Dresden his best face, and the fact Dresden had yet to take offense to any of Marcus's actions meant Marcus was really reluctant to rock the boat, least he find himself tumbling into the water.

No, this was something Marcus had to figure out for himself. It just would have been easier if Marcus had been in a nice warm room, fifty kilometers in the rear instead of some building less than a block away from the frontline…

“So this has been where you guys have been hiding.”

Marcus jerked and glanced up as Dresden strolled into the room and immediately plopped himself down in the space between Marcus and Orlović. He studied the room before glancing at Marcus and throwing him a smile. “Nice place you got here.”

“If you say so,” Marcus murmured, a bit skeptically, causing Dresden to grin.

“Trust me: it could be a lot worse. We could be outside right now in the snow. At least here, we got blankets, roof over our heads, food…” he trailed off as he turned towards Orlović, who was still busy scraping his tongue. “What the hell is wrong with you, Billy?”

“This MRE tasted like chicken,” Orlović bitterly spat out.

“And that's a problem because…?”

“It’s supposed to be mac and cheese…”

“Ah,” Dresden replied with a grimace. “You know, there's a kitchen in the back, right? Food in the fridge is cold, but at least it’s fresh. Go help yourself.”

“And get something for me and Marcus,” he added, and Orlović immediately froze, looking torn between grabbing some food for himself and having to get something for _Marcus._

Marcus quietly sighed and decided to solve Orlović’s dilemma for him. “It’s alright: I’m not hungry.”

“I don’t care,” Dresden bluntly stated. “Not only have you been burning calories all day, its cold. I’m not going to have you pass out on me because of hunger. You got to eat.”

The last part was directly at Orlović, who let out a mute growl before disappearing into the back.

Nodding in satisfaction, Marcus watched as Dresden turned his attention back towards him. At first he thought Dresden was going to say something, but all Dresden did was grab his rifle. Ejecting his magazine and clearing the chamber, he pulled out a rag from his shoulder pocket and quickly wiped the weapon down. Then, as Marcus watched, he proceeded to field strip the entire thing and began methodically cleaning it.

Having yet to acquire another weapon for himself, all Marcus could do was watch. For a few minutes, they sat there in silence before footsteps caused Marcus to look up, and he spotted Orlović walking back to him, carrying something green on a plate.

_KABOOM!_

The sound of an explosion just down the street, followed by the roar of rapid gunfire caused everyone to jump. The plate shattered as it hit the ground, Orlović having dropped it in favor of grabbing his rifle, while Dresden pulled out a pistol from seemingly nowhere. But before they could even begin to figure what had happened, the fighting stopped just as quickly as it had begun. Then, a single scream sounded in the silence.

“MEDIC!”

Doc Westley, who had been taking a nap in the corner, immediately leapt to her feet.

“Move! Get the fuck out of the way!” she roared as she raced for the door and Marcus wasn’t sure if Orlović had genuinely tripped over his feet in his haste to clear the path or he had done it on purpose, all he knew was that for one reason or another, Orlović ended up shoving him to the ground _hard._

Marcus hissed in pain as his left palm was sliced up by the debris covering the floor, and he glanced at Orlović who looked completely unapologetic.

“Marcus, you alright?” Dresden called out.

Orlović stared at him, as if daring him to say something, and Marcus decided he didn’t want any trouble, so he shook his head.

“No, sir, I just tripped is all.”

He tried to keep the feeling of betrayal from his voice but he wasn’t sure if he succeeded because Dresden let out a loud sigh.

“PFC Orlović, can I talk to you in private?” he requested as he climbed to his feet, though it was clear from the tone of his voice it was anything but a request.

Shooting Marcus one last glare, Orlović followed Dresden into the back room, making sure to shut the door behind them.

Marcus shivered to himself. He really hoped whatever it was Dresden had to say, it had nothing to do with him because the last he wanted was fuel to be added to whatever was happening between him and Orlović.

Finding a relatively clean rag to wrap around his hand, Marcus looked around the room for something to distract him from the pain, and his eyes fell upon Dresden's disassembled rifle. Deciding it was the least he could do in appreciation for Dresden's concern and kindness, Marcus scooted over and studied the parts in front of him. The Actium Army might not have taught him to be a warrior but this? This he could do.

Picking up a rag, Marcus began to finish cleaning it for him.

“He hasn’t even fired a fucking shot, Theo!”

Marcus jumped as he suddenly heard Orlović’s voice and he looked around wildly, only to spot some sort of vent over his head; clearly the vent was connected to the room he and Dresden were in because Marcus could hear them talking. At first, he debated moving, but curiosity compelled him to stay and listen in.

Dresden said something too low for Marcus to pick up, but Orlović’s response made it obvious what had been said: “I ain’t been trained for combat either, Sarge, but do you see me curling up into a ball like a little bitch the moment we take fire?”

Dresden said something in response, and Orlović sighed.

“Sarge, I’m not going to insult you by pretending I have nearly the amount of trigger-time you do,” Orlović said, sounded tired this time instead of angry. “But you know, in combat, I gotta be able to trust the man next to me. And right now, if the Covenant were to come burstin' through that wall, what do you think he's gonna do? You think he's gonna stick it out and watch your back, the way you’ve been doin’ for him all day? Or you think he's gonna leave us in the lurch again? ‘Cause I know what **_I'd_** put my money on.”

Marcus couldn’t help but shiver at that question because, truth be told, he wasn’t even sure what he would do. Deciding he didn’t need to know how the rest of the conversation went, Marcus hurriedly grabbed up all the pieces to Dresden rifle, and moved closer to the front entrance, away from the vent. But no matter how far he went, he knew he wouldn’t be able to escape the question: what would he do, if the Covenant were to attack right now? Would he run? (again…) That would obviously be the most intelligent thing to do, as he didn’t even have a weapon to fight back with… yet, at the same time…

Marcus squirmed uncomfortably, as the memory of what he had done this morning came streaming into his mind once more. He wasn’t going to apologize. He wasn’t. But thinking of what other people had done, people like that cop he had met, Officer Riddle, who wasn’t even a _soldier…_

“MOVE!”

Marcus jumped and hurried out of the way as Doc Westley unexpectedly appeared out of the dark with two other soldiers, bearing a loaded stretcher. Laying on the stretcher was one of the Army tankers, groaning in pain as blood squirted from a wound in her lower gut.

“Set her right here!” Westley demanded. “Private! Has Compton showed up!?”

It took Marcus a few moments to place the name: Lance Corporal Compton, the other medic that had shown up with the rest of the Marines.

“No, ma'am!” Marcus reported, but Westley was no longer paying attention. Instead, she was busy shoving gaze into the wounded soldier's wound.

“Doc, what happened?” Dresden demanded to know and he and Orlović suddenly appeared by his side.

“Covie infiltrators in the wire,” one of the stretcher bearers replied on Westley's behalf. “Marines took them out with a rocket launcher, but not before they got a grenade off. Sergeant Restrepo got hit.” He gestured at the groaning woman on the stretcher.

“Doc, do you need anything from us?” Dresden anxiously asked.

“Someone fine me Doc Compton, I’m out of biofoam,” Westley demanded. “And Lieutenant Lancelot! We're going to need a medivac!”

“Specialist del Pino, find Compton, NOW!” Dresden immediately barked at one of the stretcher bearers. “Orlović, get the LT. Corporal Wesson, you and I are checking the line!”

“Got it, Sar'nt!”

Marcus hastily handed Dresden his rifle, grateful he had managed to reassemble it in time, as Dresden and the other stretcher bearer hurried out of the building. Looking around the room, Marcus was quick to notice he'd been the only one who hadn’t gotten an assignment, and the realization he'd probably been excluded because of –

Marcus unexpectedly stepped on something, and he glanced down to see an MA37 assault rifle lying on the floor that hadn’t been there five minutes ago. Given the amount of blood coating it, it was probably Restrepo's, more than likely having fallen off the stretcher as the group barged into the building. With that in mind, Marcus glanced at the two remaining figured in the room.

Despite Westley's best efforts, Restrepo was still bleeding fairly heavily while Restrepo herself seemed to have fallen into a state of unconsciousness. Marcus was no doctor, but even he could tell that even if Restrepo were to survive her wounds, her part in this battle was over. So maybe, just maybe…

Marcus bent over and picked up the rifle. The first thing he had to do was clean the blood off it before it could leak into the chamber and freeze.

After all, there was no point in carrying a weapon that didn’t work.

**XXXXX**

**_Heliopolis Station,_ High Orbit, Actium  
May 7, 2545  
0001**

**Spaatz**

Spaatz stood in front of the viewport on the observation deck, with his hands clasped behind his back. Technically, his presence here on the _Heliopolis’_ observation deck in the midst of a Covenant invasion was a direct violation of several UNSC Navy protocols. After all, it _was_ the most vulnerable place on the entire station.

Spaatz didn’t care. He needed to see it.

The planet.

Actium.

He needed to see it with his own eyes, and not through a view screen. He needed to see what he had done.

And think.

About how he was going to save it.

As per protocol, all artificial lights on the surface of the planet had been turned off. Not that the darkness was capable of fooling the Covenant sensors, but, every little bit helped. As a result, the entire surface of the colony of Actium was completely dark.

Except for one single spot.

The city of Byzas. And the site of the Covenant beachhead.

“Sir.”

Spaatz didn’t so much as twitch at the sound of Kanin’s voice from behind him, but Kanin knew he was listening nonetheless.

“Sir, according to sensors, all Covenant activity has ceased for the moment,” Kanin announced. “All Covenant offensive activity has been temporarily halted. It would appear, sir, that the Covenant are assuming defensive positions.”

Spaatz cleared his throat. “And what of the Spartans?”

“The surviving member of Spartan Team Argon has been safely transported out of the system. As per the Cole Protocol, the UNSC _Sonata_ will make over a dozen randomized slipstream jumps before arriving on Reach.”

“And the surviving soldier from Volkov’s Airborne detachment?”

“Sergeant Moss Shen is currently in a coma, sir. According to the medical team, they are unable to estimate at what point, if ever, he will reawaken.”

Spaatz sighed and rubbed his face. “So we still don’t know what happened to the remaining members of Argon Team? Or the fate of Major Volkov and the rest of his detachment?”

“…No, sir. However, Captain Rogers and the rest of his section of Rangers are still searching for clues.”

“Call it off.”

“Sir?”

“Recall those soldiers. At this point, the Covenant would have had spent as much time as we have searching for those Spartans. If they had found something, we would have heard about it by now. And if neither party can find anything, then we can conclude that it is because there is simply nothing left to find.”

Kanin was silent for a moment.

“For the record, sir, I don’t believe Admiral Parangosky would approve,” he finally said.

“I don’t give a damn _what_ Admiral Parangosky would approve of or not approve of,” Spaatz snapped, turning to face Kanin. “ ** _I’m_ **in charge of the defense of this system, and if she doesn’t like that, then she can come here and relieve me herself. And _until_ that moment happens, I’m not wasting any more of my troops on a fruitless search. Is that clear?”

“Sir. Yes, sir.”

“Good.” Spaatz turned back to the viewport. In its reflection, he could see Kanin’s avatar had yet to disappear. “Was there something else?”

“Just one more thing, sir. SIGINT has picked up a tightly concentrated communication’s signal originating from the Covenant invasion force’s flagship. It appears to be directed somewhere outside of the system. We’re not capable of tracking its destination. The message is, however, heavily, _heavily_ encrypted. ONI’s preliminary analysis suggests that it will take, at the very minimum, at least three days of non-stop calculations and analysis before we’re capable of cracking the code.”

“We don’t need to crack the code: I know exactly what it says.”

“Sir?”

“It’s a request,” Spaatz explained. “For reinforcements. The Covenant have a foothold. And they will _not_ surrender it easily. We need to drive them out. Now. While the balance of power still remains stacked in our direction.” Spaatz let out another sigh before fully turning around. “Call a briefing. All general officers and their staff from all Commands.”

“Sir…” Kanin slowly began, “with all due respect, you need some sleep. You’ve been on your feet since before the invasion began, and you’ve had nothing for sustenance besides coffee. At this point, sir, and to be blunt, you’re running at less than optimal efficiency. And should you fall due to poor health, sir, the disruption to the chain of command could prove to be… catastrophic.”

Spaatz took a deep breath and slowly exhaled. As much as he didn’t want to admit it, Kanin was right. As any rescue worker knew, they had to ensure they were capable of saving themselves before they tried to save anyone else.

“Fine,” he finally said. “Schedule the briefing for zero four hundred hours. No later. The sooner we can go on the offensive, the better; because tomorrow…”

Spaatz glanced over his shoulder at Actium once more.

“…Tomorrow is going to be another _very_ long day.”

**XXXXX**

**Covenant _ORS-class heavy destroyer “_ Undying Fealty”  
Forerunner Designated World: MS 222-53 a  
9th Age of Reclamation  
12th Cycle of the Planet’s Rotation**

**Shipmaster Iam ‘Oteree**

Shipmaster Iam 'Oteree stood up as straight as he could while he waited for the connection to form. His armor gleamed under the light, having just been thoroughly washed and polished, to remove all traces of the mud and snow from the planet he had just left. Crawling with humans and all of their _filth_ , the planet alone had almost been enough to make Iam shudder, and under no circumstances would he allow the Noble Hierarchs to suffer from the same discomfort, even if it would be nothing more than an image. Anything that would perhaps convince them to grant him leniency.

There was no other way to put it: Iam had failed the High Prophets. Badly failed. They had entrusted him the safety of one of their kind and yet, despite his best efforts, the Minister of Contentment had been murdered by the thrice cursed humans. The first San'shyuum killed in the Crusade against the humans ever. The first San'shyuum killed on the battlefield in... eons. And it was not even a Demon who had slain the Minister, but a mere _human_.

Damn that 'Refumee! If only he had had done his duty and remained at his post!

Iam took a deep breath and forced himself to calm down.

No, 'Refumee had been dealt with already, and as much as Iam would have liked to place the entirety of the blame at the young fool's feet, Iam knew the High Prophets would never tolerate such...sniveling. For, not only was Iam a Zealot, he was also a Fleetmaster. And as such, any actions undertaken by the warriors under his command were his responsibility and his alone. He would face the consequences of his failures with the honor and dignity all members of House 'Oteree were expected to show.

Breath. Tranquility. Iam was a veteran of many a campaign. A master warrior. An expert in his craft. He would show no fear, for he was blessed by the Gods themselves and anointed by the Holy Prophets. With such righteous power guiding his every action, how could Iam fear any evildoers?

His communicator abruptly chimed, indicating a connection had been established, and Iam immediately prostrated himself as the images of the three most Noble and most Holy members of the Covenant appeared before him: the Hierarchs of the Covenant, the High Prophets of Regret, Mercy, and Truth.

"Noble Hierarchs," Iam rumbled without looking up. "In the name of the Ancestors, I greet you. May the Divine Wind carry you swiftly on your Great Journey. May you be blessed with the responsibilities of the great Mantle. Hail to the High Prophets! Hallowed are Thee who Lead the Way!"

Clearing his throat, Iam bowed even lower. "The Noble Hierarchs are both merciful and generous to honor me with their presence, for this one is not worthy of even breathing near your Most Prestigious beings."

With the formal greetings concluded, Iam waited for the Hierarchs to speak.

_"Commander."_

The Prophet of Truth's gravelly voice seemed to echo through the chamber, and Iam felt a shiver of joy travel down his spine at the sound, however his joy was quickly tempered when he remembered the reasoning for this conference.

_"You may rise."_

Gratefully, and somewhat awkwardly, Iam rose to his feet as he resisted the urge to massage his knees. The biology of the Sangheili did not quite allow them to prostrate themselves in such a manner, however, wicked be thee who dared fail to pay the proper tribute to the High Prophets.

_"Commander,"_ Truth continued as Iam recovered. _"You are one of our most faithful servants, and have served the Covenant with great loyalty through the eons. It thus arrived with great shock and sadness when the reports arose that a member of our kind, a holy San'shyuum and one of the Great Ministers of the High Council, was brutally slain while under_ your _protection."_

Iam could not help but wince at that.

_"However, Commander,"_ Truth continued, _"the High Prophets realize the lies of the heretics are boundless and unrelenting. Therefore, we, the Noble Hierarchs, invite you to elucidate the events that transpired during your campaign, in that, the Noble Hierarchs may thus know the truth of the matter."_

Iam avoided the urge to grimace. What he had to say would surely not be well received.

Sure enough, as Iam recalled the events that had transpired on the planet but a few cycles ago to the High Prophets, he could see Truth's face become more and more drawn. By the time Iam had completed his report, Truth's face almost appeared to have been constructed of stone.

_“So,”_ Truth began, silencing everyone else in the room. _“In conclusion, Commander, not only did you fail to capture any of the Demons you were tasked with recovery, you also failed to capture the human who murdered our dear Minister. Our Minister, of whom_ we _, entrusted_ you _, with protecting. Would you agree, Commander, that this is an accurate synopsis?”_

Iam closed his eyes and lowered his eyes in shame. There was no denying.

“Yes, your Hierarch,” he said. “It is as you say. I have failed you.”

There was a long moment of silence, but Iam dare not rise to discover why.

_"We are very disappointed,"_ Truth finally said and somehow, that single sentence made Iam feel _ashamed_ of himself.

“Yes, your Hierarch,” he miserably repeated. “There is no excuse for my failures. I can only prostrate myself in front of the Hierarchy and beg for an opportunity to redeem myself for this transgression.”

_“And what would you have us do?”_ Mercy asked, speaking up for the first time.

Iam slowly inhaled. He was not sure if there was a particular answer the High Prophets hoped to receive, but for Iam, there was but one recourse left for him.

“Please, allow me to continue my campaign against the humans and I will make sure their pathetic world burns in your name."

Iam did his best not to sound as if he was pleading, however there was no denying: the fate of his honor rested in the hands of the Hierarchs. He could only pray they would be merciful.

There was a long stretch of silence where no one spoke, during which, Iam became increasingly nervous. Surely the Hierarchs understood his position? Surely they would be merciful? However, none of the Prophets showed any signs of their thoughts, disapproving or otherwise.

The silence continued, and just as Iam was about to break protocol and plead for mercy once more, Truth abruptly spoke.

_“The Hierarchy has heard your plea,"_ he declared. _"And will now consider your fate."_

The High Prophets abruptly vanished as the transmission was terminated.

As soon as Iam confirmed the transmission had ended, he released the breath he had been holding. At this moment, he could do naught but wait. Wait for the Gods to determine his fate.

As time trickled past, Iam did his best to remain calm. The High Prophets were as merciful as they were wise; surely they would grant him his request.

...but if they were not...? What would become of him then?

Most certainly he would be branded a heretic and forced into exile, if not outright executed. His name would be stripped from his House's saga wall and his clan forever shamed.

No! That could not happen! Iam could not allow it! Surely there would be another way for him to regain his lost honor!?

...how so?

...perhaps as an _Arbiter_ -

Iam laughed out loud. It was a sad, bitter laugh, for Iam knew the truth: there had already been an Arbiter during this Age. The High Prophets would surely refuse to allow a second. No, Iam's fate would be that of death at best, a heretical brand at worse.

...of course, that were to only be true if the High Prophets were less than merciful.

But surely the High Prophets were as merciful as they were wise!?!?

The communicator suddenly let out a loud charm, stopping Iam before he could repeat his mental argument. Taking a moment to straighten himself, Iam inhaled, and then slowly exhaled, before receiving the transmission.

The images of the High Prophets appeared once again before him and just before Iam prostrated himself, he stole a glance at the faces of the Hierarchs, hoping to gleam a clue as to his fate. None of them, however, showed any signs of their deliberation, and thus Iam was forced to wait.

_"Shipmaster Iam 'Oteree,"_ Truth began and Iam immediately straightened, his entire body quivering as he waited to hear what would become of him. _"The Hierarchy has heard your plea and have adopted a resolution: we will grant you this boon. You will continue your campaign against the humans. And you will exterminate every single heathen in retribution for the most holy life they have dared to take.”_

Relief instantly flooded Iam's veins. Praise be the Hierarchs, for they surely were most wise and deserving!

"For every drop of the Holy Eminence's blood they have spilled, I will ensure the humans pay it back a thousand fold with their lives!" Iam could not help but roar in triumph before catching himself. "Hierarchs, I humbly thank -"

Truth held up a single finger and Iam immediately closed his mouth.

_"But,"_ Truth continued as if Iam had not said a single word. _"The campaign will not continue under your command."_

Iam stared at Truth, not quite comprehending.

"I... Noble Hierarch," he stammered, "your words are as merciful as they are wise, however, your humble servant cannot comprehend them. Please, I beseech you to share your wisdom so that I may learn how to best serve the Hierarchy."

Truth loftily stared at him, and Iam felt his euphoria quickly dissipating.

_"This... fiasco, was the result of your arrogance,"_ Truth declared, and Iam could not mask his wince as the words cut him deeply. _“You must learn humility. To that, you must learn to obey the commands of another."_

Iam was stunned. He was to be removed from command? While this was certainly better than death or exile, never in his wildest dreams had this possibility occurred to him.

However, what other choice did he have? He could only hope 'Quetshadee would be capable of the task that was to be presented to him.

"It shall be as you command, Noble Hierarch," Iam finally said. "I shall inform my second in command of -"

_"No."_

Iam's head snapped up at the sudden interruption, and he glanced at Truth with a growing sense of apprehension. "Your Holiness?

_"No,"_ Truth coldly repeated. _"You are not capable of learning humility from another Sangheili. But perhaps a Jiralhanae..."_

At those words, Iam automatically bristled. A Jiralhanae? A _Jiralhanae!?_ The Hierarchs wished to replace him with a Jiralhanae!? Were the High Prophets _attempting_ to insult -

No. The Noble Hierarchs were as wise as they were merciful, but surely this must have been a mistake.

He glanced up to see Truth was carefully watching him, as if he was expecting a response, and Iam quickly though of some way to protest this decision without resorting to heresy.

"Noble Hierarchs," he began, "that..."

_"The Hierarchy has spoken, and it shall be so!"_ Regret abruptly snapped, speaking for the first time this conversation began and immediately silencing Iam.

_"Do you dare disobey a direct commandment from the Hierarchy?"_ Mercy accused, to Iam's horror.

Iam opened his mouth and struggled to find a response, however with all three Prophets of the Hierarchy staring down on him, Iam found he had no choice but to obey.

"It shall be as you command," he resignedly said.

Truth nodded, as if this was what he had been expecting. Then, just as Iam was about to terminate the transmission, he heard Truth say almost as an aside, _"Perhaps the Jiralhanae will be able to accomplish what the Sangheili have not: capture one of the Demons."_

Anger immediately surged through Iam's veins but the transmission ended before he could say anything. In truth, it was a blessing as what Iam had been about to say would have no doubtedly resulted in his immediate execution, but then again, perhaps it would have better if he _had_ been killed. At least then he would not need to suffer through the humiliation of being replaced by a _Jiralhanae_.

Struggling to control his outrage, Iam took a moment to regain his composure before leaving the communicator facility aboard his flagship, feeling conflicted. While he still retained his life and thus, the opportunity to make amends for his failure, the humiliation at being replaced by a Jiralhanae was almost too much to bear.

However, the Hierarchs had spoken, and as their most humble servant, Iam had no choice to obey.

Outside, 'Quetshadee stood, waiting.

"What news Shipmaster?" he asked the moment he laid eyes on 'Oteree.

"I am to continue this campaign against the humans in the name of the Minister of Contentment," Iam began as he struggled to think of a way to break the news to 'Quetshadee."

'Quetshadee swelled with pride.

"Then it is true as they say!" he bellowed. "The High Prophets are as merciful as -"

"But not as its commander."

That gave 'Quetshadee pause.

"You are to no longer be the Fleetmaster?" 'Quetshadee inquired and Iam nodded in confirmation. "Then, it is fortuitous that your wisdom shall remain for I will -"

"You will not lead either."

That simple statement stopped 'Quetshadee short once more.

"No?" he inquired. "Then whom shall...?"

Iam struggled to remove the bitterness from his voice as he spoke. "I know not, only that it is to be a... Jiralhanae."

The effect of Iam's words was instantaneous.

_"WHAT!?"_ 'Quetshadee shouted, catching the attention of a few Unggoy working nearby, though they quickly turned away at Iam's glare. "The High Prophets would _dare_ sent a Jiralhanae here!? And as your replacement no less!? I do not wish to question the decision of the Hierarchs, but perhaps they do not comprehend the sheer dishonor such a decision would cause? Perhaps the High Council -"

"The High Council has no say in these decisions," Iam interrupted. "Furthermore, they would have undoubtedly demanded the Hierarchs brand me a heretic for my failures. The Minister of Contentment was one their brethren, after all."

Iam let out a sigh. "No, if this is the will of the Prophets, then so be it."

'Quetshadee grunted in agreement, before a sly look crossed his face. "Did the High Prophets mention _when_ the Jiralhanae will arrive? If we were able to complete our conquest of this planet before that time, then surely -"

Iam whirled on him.

"We will do no such thing!" he roared, causing 'Quetshadee to jerk back in alarm. "The Noble Hierarchs have demanded my position, and we, as mere humble servants, will obey! No further offensive action is to take place against the humans until the Jiralhanae arrive! All Legions are to hold their positions until indicated otherwise! Is that clear Evocatus!?"

"Yes, sire!" 'Quetshadee bellowed at the top of his lungs.

"Then see to it my commands are implemented!" Iam ordered, before continuing in a much softer voice. "But once the Jiralhanae arrive, we shall measure their worth. And _when_ they are found lacking...

...the Sangheili will resume their place as protectors of the Covenant!"


End file.
